The Thrill of The Hunt
by Aleandri
Summary: Stiles is convinced Derek hates him, right up until he is taken from BH and finds himself knee-deep in werewolves at the Werewolf Capitol. Surprisingly, a furious Derek drops everything to rescue him. The BH pack is going on a field trip! But can they rescue spastic!Stiles before he is claimed as a mate during The Hunt? Warnings Inside.
1. Chapter 1

Quick Summary:

It is set Pre-Season Three in a slightly different TW world, where Derek is something like an heir to a (huge) Hale pack, but has been laying low to avoid his duties in BH. Then Peter ruins everything... It is still basically canon, the others just don't realize that Derek is a big deal outside of BH until this point.

Also, the boys (all of them) are seniors and Stiles is eighteen (Just let it happen. Feel your mind stretch to accomodate the changes...).

My goal is to make Stiles as awesomely spastic and fun as he is in the show, while also adding in lots of sexy Sterek.

Let me know how it works out, please. -^o^-

* * *

The first thing Stiles noticed when his eyes finally fluttered open was Scott's worry-stricken face leaning over him. The second thing he noticed was that every part of his body was pulsing with pain. Clearly he had been hit by a bus. This was it. The end. The big finale. Good-bye cruel world, riddled with girls who wouldn't look at him twice, test and quizzes, homicidal supernatural forces, and- oh yeah!- fucking werewolf jocks that don't know how to dial back when playing lacrosse with very frail, puny, breakable humans!

Fucking Jackson.

"Dude, are you okay? That looked…_rough_." Scott's voice acted like a homing beacon for Stiles dazed and pain-rattled mind. He watched bleary-eyed as his best-bestie shot a dirty look across the field. He turned his sore neck painfully to follow the heated glare, only to see an unrepentant Jackson shrug and smile smugly. Because that's what massive, ego-centric douchebags do- FYI. They abuse their supernaturally endowed werewolf hulk-strength and cause pain and suffering to the mere mortals cursed to be around them.

Scott returned his sympathetic gaze down to Stiles just as coach blew his whistle from where he was standing by the bleachers.

"Ballinski! I said to GUARD Jackson- not plant yourself in his path and stare at the pretty flowers! For God's sake, we have a tournament next week! What if you had hurt Jackson, huh? And Jackson! How about PASSING for a change?! McCall was wide-open! Hell, half your team was wide-open! Geez!" He blew his whistle loudly several times in rapid succession. "All right! Today's a loss! It's starting to look more like a Black-Friday Sale at Walmart than a lacrosse practice out here! Wrap it up and hit the showers!"

Stiles huffed a disparaging sigh from his place on the ground, taking Scott's proffered hand gratefully as he gently hoisted his aching body off the ground.

"That was an obvious foul, man. I'm gonna tell Jackson to knock those stunts off, alright? He knows better than to be using his wolf-strength in public like that." Scott whispered and turned his frowning face to Stiles' as he began to hobble towards the locker rooms with the rest of the team.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Please point out for, like, the millionth time that I am breakable. Because he has listened SO WELL in the past. Face it, Scott- the dude is an arrogant jock with zero braincells and a massive superiority complex. Add werewolf super-powers to the equation and you end up with a very bruised Stiles- emotionally and physically." Stiles hissed angrily under his breath, knowing Scott had no trouble hearing him.

A shove from behind almost sent Stiles face-first back onto the damp and muddy field.

"Okay-yeah! Real mature! You're sooo cool!" Stiles shot angrily at the laughing Jackson and his group of cronies as they passed around him."

Duh, Stiles cursed himself. If Scott could hear him, then so could the Gauche-King, himself. Funny how these little things slip the mind following a fucking CONCUSSION. Stiles stumbled back up to standing position, ready to release a stream of angry curses, but Scott beat him to it.

"Hey- cool it, Jackson!" Scott practically growled at the boy, the low notes apparently hitting some nerves for his inner-wolf. Jackson's smile dropped for just a moment before he shrugged again and walked confidently inside.

"Yeah, that's right, Cujo! Go on, with your… perfect cheek bones and… hundred dollar cologne! WE'RE AT LACROSSE PRACTICE! Who the hell wears expensive cologne just to roll around in the mud and grass, all sweaty and arm-pitty and gross! WE'RE NOT IMPRESSED!" Stiles was cut off by a pat on his back from Scott, signaling that he was only embarrassing himself for no reason. As usual. Yep, no news-breaks there. Stiles gets humiliated in front of everyone, then follows it up with a healthy dose of self-inflicted humiliation that is shrugged off by everyone. Outstanding.

"Don't sweat Jackson, dude. He's a jerk." They strolled/limped inside and over to their lockers and began changing. Every tiny movement sent jolts of dull, aching pain through Stiles entire body. Man, he was going to be black and blue by dinner. Fucking fantastic. Scott began packing his bag quickly as he asked, "So, what was that out there, anyway? You were actually on your game today. That's why Jackson was so pissed. Why'd you zone out and give him an opening?"

"Oh, that's classy! Re-victimize the victim, Scott. Because it was totally MY fault that Jackson decided to run me over like a freakin' semi-truck. Fabulous." Stiles tossed his clothes and gear into his gym bag in annoyance, but was secretly preening from the compliment that he had actually managed to hold his own for, like, the first time ever today. After a few seconds of busy packing, Stiles couldn't act furious any longer. "…I was pretty awesome today, huh?" He broke into a wide smile. "I maybe could have even 'for-real' blocked Jackson if I hadn't been watching that crowd spying on us like creepers. Seriously, dude, you saw them, right? There was like, a whole group of people scoping out our practice from over by the far bleachers. I mean, talk about competitive. Just saying- if other schools have to send out parents and coaches just to check out our team, they are hitting an all-time low. I was totally about to flip them the bird when Jackson steam-rolled me." Stiles thought back on the dozen or so people standing not-so-covertly by the woods near the bleachers. Yeah, so it was a public place, but seriously? They looked almost like professional-league lacrosse players themselves. The men were mostly muscle, hard-eyes following the game intently. The couple of women with them weren't exactly delicate looking either. Hmmm, now that he thought about it, they may have even been scouts. From _colleges_. Shit- and they had front row seats to watching Stiles get beat-down. Thanks a ton, Jackson. Out loud, Stiles mused, never seeming to break his steady stream of words. "He was probably jealous that people were seeing my A-game, huh? Couldn't stand me being in the spot light, you think? " He flashed a cheeky grin at Scott who harrumphed, but nodded.

"Yeah, you've definitely been getting better. Like, a lot, man. If me, Issac and Jackson didn't have, uh," He checked around them to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. Most of the other players had already filtered out, eager to get home. One or two people were changing out of earshot of the two. The locker room was mostly silent in the area where they stood. He turned back to Stiles, voice quiet, "Uh, an _advantage_, then I seriously think you would be a contender for Captain. It's too bad."

"Pssh. True that. I could totally be like, running the team by now. I mean, all this fleeing for my life through forests and trying not to be killed by supernatural lizards and werewolves and all the crazy shit around here has really honed my skills. Total bummer that you guys are contributing to my success while at the same time acting as the only barrier to it. Worst. Bestie. Ever. You oughta be ashamed. A real friend would resign from the team and let his BFF shine for once." Scott was grinning widely beside him as Stiles ranted.

"Sorry, dude. You know I would if I thought it mattered. But, that would just leave you alone to deal with Isaac and Jackson. What kind of friend would I be then?" He zipped up his bag and leaned against the locker, waiting for Stiles.

"Uh, probably about as good of friend that you are now. I mean, I'm still getting pummeled half to death on the field by Jackson as it is. And Isaac, too. Hell, if he had been here, instead of group-brooding with Derek and the others, I may have needed to be stretchered off today. Can't you use your super-wolfy bonding skills to, like, discourage them from using me as a personal chew-toy?"

"Aw, sorry, bro. Isaac's part of Derek's pack, and you know Jackson won't listen to ANYONE. I can't really check them when they're out of line. Maybe I could talk to Derek, though. Get him to use his Alpha-voice, or whatever, to make them back off from you?"

"Oh, God- PLEASE DON'T. Derek might encourage them to just rip my throat out and end it all quickly. That dude is like, out for my blood or something. He totally has this not-so-subtle homicidal vibe around me. I half-expect to see him slither out from under my bed or come busting out of my closet on dark, stormy nights. Seriously, dude. He has no appreciation for my valiant efforts to constantly help dig his- and his pack's- furry asses out of the holes they keep digging themselves into. None! He just goes all broody, like 'I didn't ask for your help, pathetic, scrawny, human-boy, so flee quickly before I lunge at your jugular and rip it out with my teeth'."

Scott suggested thoughtfully, "I don't know, dude. I can't be a hundred percent sure, cause he's crazy-good a masking his scents from other werewolves. But, I don't get the impression he is interested in killing you. He acts tough and stand-offish, but if he seriously didn't appreciate you helping out, I think he would have found a way to cut you out of everything by now."

"Yeah, dude. By KILLING me. Like I've been saying all along. He's probably just looking for an easy way that wont get pinned on him. Why waste his super-manly alpha-male strength ripping me limb from limb just to get busted and go back on the run from the cops. I doubt anyone is going to believe ANOTHER animal attack around here. I mean- geez!- we must have the highest rate of animal attacks per capita in the US! How has no one gotten suspicious by now? No, he's planning something special for me… Oh-hey!" Stiles through his hands up, a thought dawning on him. "Maybe he recruited Jackson to be his hitman to take me out! That would totally explain the assassination attempt on the field today!"

Scott burst out laughing as Stiles finally shut his locker and turned to face him. "Dude, it wasn't that bad. I mean, if he was trying to kill you, it wouldn't be all that hard. Even WITH your amped-up lacrosse skills." Stiles rolled his eyes, wincing as he lifted his heavy bag up to his shoulder. The locker room was almost completely empty, and Stiles was ready to call it a day. Scott frowned at his friend, then smirked. "Hey, you want me to do the whole 'take away the pain' thing on you? It's no problem, and you'll feel a lot better."

"What? Yikes! No way, man. I def don't want you to lay your hands on my body and feel me up wolf-style. That's some weird shit, dude."

Scott's smile got wider as he closed the gap between them, running his hands smoothly over Stiles' bare arms, drawing up goosebumps from the other boy, who immediately tried to jump back, instead slamming himself into his locker. "Whoa! Stranger-Danger! Mitts off, dude!" Stiles tries to wrest himself from Scott's tight grasp by raising a leg to wedge between them and kick him off. Scott laughed out loud and raised his arms to wrap Stiles in a full-blown bear-hug.

"STILES! WHY DON'T YOU WANT ME TO TOUCH YOU?! JUST LET ME HOLD YOU AND I CAN TAKE AWAY ALL THE PAAAIIIINNNN!"

Stiles flailed uselessly, nearly choking on his laughter, knocking them both off balance. They stumbled heavily onto the wooden bench behind them, Scott landing on top of the red-faced Stiles. "HAHAHA! Scott- you fucking loser! GET OFF! HAHAHA!"

"STILES! WHY CAN'T YOU ACCEPT ME AND MY WEIRDNESS? JUST GIVE IN! IT WILL FEEL SO GOOD!"

The two boys ended up in a half-wrestling, half-hugging match with Stiles practically shrieking at Scott to let go in between sobs of laughter.

A far-off locker shut with a metallic clang.

Both boys froze, turning in the direction of the sound.

From behind the far row of lockers, Danny emerged, ears red, and made straight for the exit directly past them.

Stile's managed to lift his hand as high as he could, what with it being trapped by Scott's arms, and gave a little wave and cheerful shout, "'Night, Danny. Have a glorious weekend."

Danny's eyebrows rose briefly and he gave a short nod without looking in their direction before pulling open the door and darting out.

Both boys remained frozen in place for several more seconds, waiting for the embarrassment of the situation to pass. Danny of all people... After a few moments, Stiles turned his eyes to Scott's, just inches from his own, and asked, "Don't even pretend like you didn't know he was in here," he admonished. Scott flashed a beaming smile at his friend. After a few more moments, just enough time for their positions to get really nice and awkward, with neither wanting to bitch-out and move away first, Stiles asked quietly, "Hey, bud. Just wondering… could you like, scent if he was, maybe, turned on?"

"Dude!?" Scott hopped up laughing, finally releasing Stiles. He grinned incredulously as he picked up his bag. "You're not still hung up on that whole 'do gay guys find me attractive' thing, are you?"

"For SCIENCE, Scott! I'm just a teency-weency bit curious. I mean, senior year- no girlfriend, a guy has got to start reconsidering his options at this point. So? Any hotness-vibes rolling around the air?" He waved his hands around in a big circle, eyes hopeful.

Scott scrunched up his nose with a chuckle, "No, dude. Just alarm. He was alarmed with a hint of embarrassment. You happy?"

"Awww. Not even a whiff of interest? No subtle curiosity? Geez, I don't even have a shot with other dudes? Sometimes I wonder if I'm even playing the same sport as everyone else. Like, you guys are all playing baseball and I'm off over here doing competitive ribbon dancing or something." Stiles sighed mock-forlornly as he lifted his bag to head out behind Scott. He frowned for a moment, then shouted at Scott's disappearing back, "Hey-! Dude, no way! YOU DID IT! YOU ACTUALLY DID THAT CREEPY TOUCHING TRICK ON ME!? Uh, I feel so _violated_-!" He hurried after Scott, shouting about what a pervert he is and demanding his bruises back.

…-^o^-…

It was already dark as the two boys made their way outside and across the large school parking lot to Stiles' jeep. They were laughing loudly, Stiles buzzing energetically around Scott, flapping his arms and moving constantly.

They threw their bags into the jeep and hopped in before driving off into the distance.

In the dark and chilly night air, the soft, almost imperceptible sounds of nimble feet crossing over dead leaves filled the silence.

The members of the large group emerged from their separate hiding locations and met together just inside the tree line of the ink-black woods.

"You are sure _that_ was Stiles? Stiles Stilinski? The ONLY one in this area?" A deep voice asked, disbelief in his tone.

"That is what Peter Hale reported. I checked several times. It is him." There was a small pause, in which nobody moved or spoke, seemingly all thinking carefully.

A third voice, female, spoke up, "He did not tell the Board that it was a _young man_." She gave a small growl, then added, "That's just like him. He probably intentionally didn't mention it, all for his own amusement. The Board is NOT going to find it as humorous if Peter has lied to them."

The second voice spoke again, quickly and sharply, "We do not know that he HAS lied." There was another silence, filled with the group pondering the possibility.

The female voice was the first to speak again, her incredulous words filling the crisp night air. "But, he's a GUY. A boy. Just a high school kid. No one here _really_ believes that Derek Hale, the heir to the _entire_ Hale pack, could actually-"

"Are you suggesting that Peter Hale, the current leader of the entire Hale pack, would risk his family's name and honor to lie to the Board about this?" Another, more stern voice growled out, threat lacing his words.

More tense silence filled the night.

The second voice finally stated carefully, "It is not our place to question Derek Hale, or his wolf's, choices. These things are decided by the Fates, not us. If Peter was being truthful," Several warning growls sounded lowly, and the speaker continued cautiously, "which I am SURE he WAS, then we will proceed as ordered. We need to act swiftly, before Derek catches our scents in his self-proclaimed sanctuary. We were directed to move fast, before he could react and stop us."

"If any of this is even true." Snapped the woman loudly. The growls started again, deeper and more dangerously, but she wasn't deterred. "I _cannot_ believe this. And no one else will, either, if we take that boy to the High-Den! There is no evidence to support Peter's claim. Why is Derek and his scent not present around the boy? Why does he allow the *growl* (Soft/Warm/Soapy) beta to be close- to put his scent on him? And you all saw the *growl* (Arrogant/Pretty/Sickly-Sweet-Smelling) beta assault him. That would not be acceptable. This is surely a farce-"

"**Enough**!" The stern voice bit out with fierce authority as his eyes flashed red in the darkness, drawing a small whine from the woman, and causing the rest of the large group to whimper nervously. "You are dangerously out of line. We have a mission, and we are not meant to question the orders of the Board. We will take this 'Stiles Stilinski' to the High-Den, as ordered. It is the will of the Board that the heir of the Hale pack not shirk his responsibilities any further. He will join The Hunt or risk this young man being claimed by another. If he does not come to the boy's aid, then and only then, the Board will question Peter Hale's word. For now, we will trust the current leader of the Hale pack and treat this young man as the Hale heir's mate."

* * *

Okay. So, there's the intro. How was Stiles' character? Accurate?

The story seem kind of predictable?

Just roll with it- I'm going to have fun with this fic.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: This chapter has a bit of dub-con/non-con due to an over-enthusiastic Alpha (no spoilers!) so tread lightly or do a complete full-stop if that kind of thing bothers you. Just a note, there will be a bit more of that kind of thing to follow. The Hunt is a pretty wild event, and werewolves can get handsy with adorable, brown eyed- definitely eighteen and not illegal- young men. But nothing actually traumatizing or angsty. I don't roll that way.

Enjoy!

* * *

After he dropped Scott off at his own home, Stiles went home to get a shower and wash off the over-hanging stench of failure that had been following him around since Jackson humiliated him –Twice!- on the field today.

It wouldn't have been SO bad if only there hadn't been a group of witnesses. Like, _really_? Any other time Stiles had his ass handed to him was fine. THAT he could get used to. But in front of a whole group of possible scouts? This was his CAREER for God's sake! He needed a damn scholarship! His dad's meager sheriff paycheck was spent trying to keep the house and put food on the table. That wasn't going to be paying Stile's way through college. Lacrosse was pretty much his only shot for a legitimate chance that didn't lead to massive student debts that he would spend the rest of his life paying off. And jerks like Jackson didn't even need to worry about shit like that. Life really sucked sometimes.

Stiles was just leaving the shower and heading for his room, still berating himself for getting distracted on the field, when he heard the sound of the doorbell.

Who could that be? A glance at the clock showed it was already eight p.m. Stiles made his way down the dimly lit stairs to answer it. His dad was still at work. Would probably not be home for the rest of the night- again. Stiles had almost asked Scott if he could just have another super-manly sleepover at his house. It sucked being alone all the time. There was only so much internet a teenage boy could explore. And only so many solo performance sexy times before ideas ran short and bordered on the weird…

When he checked the peep hole, Stiles immediately panicked.

Why the _fuck_ was Jackson at Stiles' house late at night?! Crap, if he came all this way to beat him shitless, Stiles was going to…well, probably bleed and hurt a lot. But, after that, he was going to passive aggressively find ways to ruin the jock-wolf's remaining senior year!

Without opening the door, Stiles called out in a deep voice, trying hopelessly to imitate his father, "Stiles isn't home. And I have a big gun."

"_Hilarious_. Just…just open the damn door, _alright_?" Jackson's irritated (and slightly nervous?) voice demanded.

Stiles cringed, but figured that keeping the door shut wasn't going to do too terribly much to keep a werewolf out. Preparing himself for the inevitable pain that was sure to come, Stiles unbolted the door and opened it slowly, just a crack.

"Oh, hey! Jackson! Fancy seeing you here. I'd let you in, but-"

"NO! No- I- I don't need to come in. Really!" His eyes shot worriedly in the direction of the border of the woods nearby. Stiles tried to see what the hell the guy was looking at but Jackson was already speaking hurriedly, biting the words out in a fast flow. "I just wanted to come by and make sure you were good- uh, we were good. You know? I got a little, er, _rough_ on you out on the field today and, you know, wanted to make sure you were feeling alright. You're totally fine, huh? No hard feelings?" He tried to laugh, but the huff of expelled air wheezed out of him almost in a whine.

Stiles' mouth was hanging open incredulously. _What the-?_ In his mind, Stiles began combing through every possible shape-shifting entity that could possibly be wearing Jackson right now. Cuz no way was the stuck-up teen wolf ACTUALLY trying to apologize to him. Bullshit flag has been thrown. Not possible.

Jackson (or his crazed doppleganger) was shifting nervously, waiting for an answer. Stiles finally replied slowly, "Uh…I'm good? I mean, I am _now_. Scott did the whole 'groping/healing' thing on me, so I'm fine, I guess? Still pissed but-"

"He did _what-?!_ Why would he-?" Jackson's horrified eyes snapped to the woods again. Stiles got annoyed by the guy's weird behavior. He stepped fully outside onto the stoop to get a better look at the woods. Was someone else out there, watching this? Was this all some sort of lame prank or lost bet? Jackson began to freak out even more as Stiles squinted into the shadows. "Oh, well, that's good news, uh, I guess. Um, it's great that he would, uh, do that for you. Well, have a – a great night then."

And he was gone like a bolt. His car was no where in sight, leading Stiles to believe that he had actually RAN all the way over to Stiles house, just to apologize for being his normal jackass-self. Stiles eyes followed his quickly disappearing form, then turned to scan the spot in the woods where Jackson had been looking. It was dark. He couldn't see anything in the tree line.

Frowning, Stiles turned back into the house and bolted the door back. Crazy shit like this should be standard operating procedure for Stiles at this point, but somehow the idea of Jackson trying to be nice to him was just way too far outside the scope of reasonable insanity.

Stiles flopped down onto his bed tiredly. _Wolves, man_. No explaining them. Scott was still pretty awesome, aside from the whole 'my girlfriend is a hunter and that totally doesn't make our relationship weird or anything' deal. But the others? _Total nut-cases_. Jackson was bad enough _before_ the bite. After? _Nightmare_. Boyd? Quiet and reasonable. After? Quiet and _slightly menacing_. Erica? Completely forgettable. After? _Terrifyingly_ hot and scary. Isaac? Shy and aloof. After? Crazy-outgoing and confident.

And don't even start on Derek Hale. Stiles had no idea what Derek was like when he was younger, but he knew that the dude had been born a werewolf. Did that mean the super-scary, scowling man had ALWAYS been like that? Stiles tried to picture a the sour-wolf as a toddler.

That would be…

_Adorable...?_

Yikes.

Stiles huffed a sigh. Derek was, like, the epitome of all things wolfy and terrifying. If they had an award for wolfiest- werewolf ever, Derek Hale would be walking around with a giant-ass medal around his neck 24/7. The guy was all sharp teeth and deadly hotness. Yeah- hotness. Because even with the constant aura of deadly threat that seeped from the man, even Stiles had to admit, _DAMN_. The guy was built like a Greek God! Ancient sculptors failed to achieve what Mother Nature bestowed upon Derek Hale. He was a fucking masterpiece of male perfection!

It was _disgusting_.

Guys like Derek shouldn't be allowed to interact with the rest of the world. They should be separated, put into glass cages, so people like Stiles could pay massive amounts of money to come in and just stare freely and be glowered at from behind the safety of VERY thick glass walls.

AND he was a WEREWOLF! On top of all that perfectly sculpted muscle and penetrating, heavy-browed green eyes, he was a dark, tortured creature of the night! Were there even 'fugly' werewolves, or did the wolf DNA really just do THAT much for a person? The others, Derek's betas had all been reasonably attractive before hand, just lacking that Austin Powers 'mojo' shit. Did werewolves even need to work out? Or did Derek do it just for the fucking novelty of it?

The idea that Derek could live off of Pop Tarts and energy drinks made Stiles pissed beyond belief.

It shouldn't be _allowed_. When guys with that much good looks and uninhibited sexual energy were free to walk amongst normal people, it caused huge, epic-level _catastrophes_.

Namely, mortifyingly graphic and wonderful sex dreams for certain healthy, women-loving teen boys.

If Stiles woke up ONE more time half-way through coming courtesy of Dream-Derek, he was going to have to avoid the man for the rest of eternity! It was bad enough that Stiles had to keep his horniness in check whenever the dude was _around_\- thank you SO much super-werewolf senses. But, now there were completely unwelcome wet dreams starring the permanently pissed werewolf sex god! Holding Stiles down on a myriad of flat surfaces, pressing him up against vertical surfaces, touching very personal, sensitive horizontal AND vertical _body surfaces_-!

Stiles caught himself just in time to stop his hand from slipping past the waistband of his pajama pants.

NO! Bad Stiles! We do NOT have sexy times when thinking about _Derek_, damn it! Geez!

He pulled his hand back up to rest on his stomach, urging his erection back down unsuccessfully.

Shit. This is _exactly_ what happens when you make it eighteen years and STILL have not gotten laid. EVERYONE becomes a possible candidate! How the hell he had landed on Derek Hale as the feature presentation for his fantasies there was no telling. But, seriously, _what the fuck_-?!

Stiles groaned angrily, tossing a hand out to flip his lamp off and flop onto his stomach. He needed to sleep. Clearly Scott's magic hands only worked to heal physical problems. If only there was a way to erase mental ones- like permanently ousting unhealthy, lustful thoughts of broody werewolves, with their magnificent jawlines and coarse, strong hands….

Stiles drifted off with a frown as his mind wandered to all the fantastic places hands like those could graze over.

…-^o^-…

The wolf was restless, growling and snapping under Derek's skin.

It _hungered._

_Needed._

_Wanted._

_Lusted._

Fought for control- for the reins that Derek held tightly, keeping the wolf in check.

The long-standing battle was exhausting on both Derek and his other half. It had been going on for so long, but only lately was the toll really being taken on him.

He stared from the safety of the forest up at the now dark window. He could _just barely_ hear Stiles' heartbeat from the distance and threw the cracked window, steadying as he drifted to sleep. The now _slow_ thumping was a blessed change from the strong beat of just minutes before.

Derek had been standing there in the cool silence of the woods with dread as his wolf howled inside him hungrily. They waited together, listening, with ears tuned towards the second floor bedroom. They heard the creak of the bed and rustle of sheets. Then the very faint quickening of a heartbeat, almost lost to the louder noises of nature surrounding him.

Would he do it again tonight? Would Stiles touch himself again?

They stood in the shadows, ears cocked and anticipation building with the increasing rhythm of Stiles beating heart.

**Soon**… The wolf was already writhing inside him, ears reaching eagerly to catch the first hitch of breath. The first low moan that escaped the young man's lips.

Derek allowed the excitement to build within him. No use trying to keep the wolf from basking in the stifled sounds that floated from the house. It would just be a waste of energy. Energy that Derek needed to conserve in order to fight the wolf's more ardent demands. To enter the house. To touch the young man. To take him and own those delicious grunts and keening moans. The moon was dangerously close to being full tonight, giving the wolf more and more power over him.

**Mine**… The wolf was pulsing with heat and need, pressing against Derek's mind and skin to find a weak spot. A chance to break free and take action as it wished.

Derek slammed it back down harshly.

But, to Derek's relief and the wolf's fury, the light cut off, and the rapid beat of the young man's heart slowed.

Derek released a grateful breath as the wolf retreated bitterly.

It was getting worse. Harder to fight. The wolf's strength seemed to be growing the more Derek held it back.

Prevented it from claiming the young man.

From taking its mate.

He repeated this torture, hiding outside Stiles' house and listening like a common voyeur, just to keep the wolf sated for another day. To keep it from breaking free and finally letting itself loose on the boy.

That couldn't be allowed.

Stiles was… a _vulnerability_. An unexpected and unwanted _weakness_.

Derek could not HAVE such a gaping whole in his armor. If it was discovered…

The absurdity of the situation was almost embarrassing.

_Stiles_? _Really_?

Of ALL the scenarios and imaginings that had played out in Derek's mind through out his life, NEVER had he considered that his mate would be…

_Stiles Stilinski_.

But it wasn't even a question. Not anymore.

At first, Derek had been able to deny it. To scoff at himself for the seemingly ridiculous behavior of his wolf around the young man.

This scrawny, spastic, loud-mouthed human boy? THIS was the wolf's choice?

No. It wouldn't be allowed. Look at how weak the boy is. Look at how silly and helpless. He would never make a good mate. There is nothing worthy in him. See how he talks to us, mocks us. He will not do.

_Choose another_.

But the wolf had stayed intent on Stiles. Never wavered. Just watched and bided its time from its place inside Derek's soul, under Derek's skin, watching through his eyes and hearing through his ears.

Derek had countered in full force- lashing out at the boy, pushing and shoving at every opportunity to make him leave. To scare him off. Building up the stone-façade of his personality to keep the boy out. If the boy disdained him, the wolf would have no choice but to seek another.

Then it had all backfired in spectacular Stiles-fashion.

Stiles hadn't backed down from Derek's ferocious attacks against him. He rallied. Pushed back. _Challenged_.

His wolf had craved him even more.

And then, likely just to spite Derek's efforts, Stiles had changed.

The skinny, defenseless boy that had near-debilitating panic attacks at the slightest mention of monsters or pain, evolved into the lithe-framed man who charged in full-force towards danger, facing off against supernatural forces that should have sent him cowering.

He became a hunter. A brilliant tactician. An ally who stood beside his friends and even Derek without a thought for his own safety.

And the wolf had become more insistent. Hungrier. More desperate and demanding. It had coveted Stiles. Yearned to take the young man more than ever.

And Derek's many arguments against Stiles as a mate had petered out. All that was left for Derek to use against the wolf was reason.

They could not have Stiles, because that would put him in great danger, he argued. Did the wolf want to see the boy hurt? If Stiles was claimed, he could not be hidden. Kept safe. All other werewolves would know of him. Smell his scent on him and know that he was Derek Hale's. He would be put at great risk.

And Stiles couldn't have his normal life anymore. He couldn't live out his dreams. Go to college. Marry a beautiful, funny woman who laughed at his jokes.

Have a family...

No, claiming him would be a mistake. It would ruin Stiles' life. He would _hate_ them. Did the wolf want that? To be _hated_ by Stiles?

The wolf had protested weakly, but shrunk back. It would keep it's head down, it's needs and desires at bay. It would content itself with these late-night visits where it watched from the shadows and whimpered with want.

It would NOT put Stiles at risk.

A small, hard-won victory for Derek.

And if he had to repeat the reasons to himself repeatedly, and force himself to avoid the young man, glare at him and insist that he was useless, then that was fine.

Even if it wasn't all just for the wolf's benefit, but his own. He would never admit it. Never _accept_ it.

Stiles could not be his, even if he was a great hunter. And smart. And weirdly funny. And had incredibly deep, amber pools for eyes that Derek felt like he could drown in.

Even if Derek did LIKE Stiles, he was stronger than his wolf. He could fight it.

Derek pulled himself away from the window, ignoring the pouting wolf. There was no reason to stay longer. His task was accomplished.

Only an hour earlier, when Isaac had recounted the events of the lacrosse practice to the rest of the small pack, Derek AND his wolf had been livid.

Since Isaac was not in control of his powers yet, it was a reckless to allow him to participate in the practices until he could keep himself from exposing them all. But, he was allowed to watch. It was a solid pretense to have him spy on Stiles while the young beta thought he was just staying up to date with the newest plays and drills. He could attend and watch, but he must stay out of sight. He must practice his scent-masking in the process. Not let Jackson or Scott sense that he was there. Those were the rules.

When Isaac had accepted the policy easily, and Derek was able to keep an eye on Stiles. The young man was, after all, a walking-talking natural disaster. _Somebody_ had to watch over him...

However, when Derek heard Isaac detail Jackson's attack on Stiles, his composure slipped. He was on his feet with Isaac shoved against the nearest wall. His wolf was ready to tear the boy's throat out, then seek out Jackson to do the same. Derek kept him in check, instead grinding out, "And you did not stay to see if Stiles was injured?"

Isaac stared at Derek, terrified as the others watched on in equal fear. "I-I saw him get up. He looked okay. I mean- I'm pretty sure he was. He was yelling at Jackson and stuff so-"

Derek shoved Isaac away angrily, trying to calm himself.

Stiles was fine. _This time_.

Next time, though...?

He growled lowly. Jackson would not be allowed to continue harming (**my**) Stiles. Derek felt the wolf pushing his claim of ownership into his thoughts. He forced it back down.

Jackson would be dealt with- immediately.

After just a small amount of threatening and and bit of healthy pain, Jackson had _enthusiastically_ agreed to go apologize to Stiles.

It may have looked suspicious, to Jackson and to Derek's pack, but he didn't care. There was nothing to suggest that he wanted to claim the boy. Derek had made SURE of that. He kept his scent masked, preventing the heady air of lust from being picked up. He stayed far from Stiles to keep his scent off the young man at all times. He barely acknowledged him when they were forced into situations where they HAD to be around each other. And even then, he made sure he radiated distaste and annoyance so no one would suspect anything. An outside observer was sure to think he had no interest in the boy.

Which was exactly what he wanted. Not just to keep the secret from the pack, but also from the Others.

Although it was unlikely that any other Hale Pack members or wolves from the other families would dare cross into the territory that Derek had marked off as his own, he still wouldn't risk it. He was already being scrutinized by the the heads of the other families for his decision to eschew The Hunt for a third year in a row. The Hale Pack was being led by Peter, largely disliked and now a mere beta, which would not go over well for much longer.

The Board may take action...

The Hunt was paramount. It was the deciding factor for practically all politics among the werewolf families, not just in the U.S., but all over the world. Families fell, new pack leaders rose, feuds were concluded, and mates were selected from amongst the participants. It was a massive battle royale played out over the course of one full moon's night each year. Wolves were freed completely to act out their natural inclinations with the only repercussions being that ANYTHING that happens during The Hunt stands.

As the heir-apparent of one of the largest wolf packs in the U.S., Derek was making a very public statement by laying low in Beacon Hills and keeping his own beta's away from the other wolves.

He did it partially because he wanted nothing to do with leading the enormous Hale Pack. He shouldn't have even been in line for it. But, after the fire that destroyed most of the real heirs, only Laura stood between him and the position.

Then, of course, Peter had killed her- his own niece- during The Hunt four years ago and claimed her Alpha power.

And that was when the entire fiasco had unfolded...

Peter bit Scott. Derek's wolf discovered Stiles. Kate Argent- _the she-bitch from Hell_\- reappeared. Derek became the Alpha, sending a petulant Peter scurrying back to join the rest of Hale pack at the High-Den. Then shortly after he found himself called in front of the Board and being ordered to establish his authority as Hale Pack Leader as soon as possible.

So, naturally, he fled. He returned to the burnt out husk of his family's once picturesque home. He didn't _want_ to be the new leader, to have more people that he could fail, like he failed his family. Let Peter deal with them. He actually LIKED the attention. Derek wanted nothing to do with it.

As if somehow knowing what Derek was thinking, his phone began to buzz, indicating a call from none other than Peter, himself. The older wolf checked in occasionally, taking time to remark snidely about how much of a disappointment Derek was proving to be, and how the entire werewolf population around the world knew of his cowardice.

"What?" Derek bit out, casting a final glance back at Stiles distant window before re-entering the dark forest and making his way home, to the old train station, where his pack waited.

'_Oh, come on. What kind of greeting is that?_' Peter's smug voice asked.

"I WILL hang up, Peter." Derek threatened. He already suspected that his uncle would call to insist he attend The Hunt. Derek was already prepared for it. "I am not attending The Hunt. Don't bother asking."

'_Easy, now. As it turns out, I already assumed you wouldn't. No skin off my back there- literally. I wouldn't want my wolf trying to attack you and get my Alpha powers back. The odds wouldn't exactly be in my favor, now would they.'_

Derek chose not to ask what Peter would do if the odds WERE in his favor. "Then what could you possibly want the day before The Hunt? You want me to wish you good luck?"

'_That hurts. As a matter of fact, although 'I' don't particularly want you at The Hunt, others are not as accepting. You should know that the Board is unhappy, as are the heads of many families, including several leaders inside our own Hale pack.'_

"I think I'll survive their disapproval." Derek snapped, slightly uncomfortable at the amount of unrest he was apparently stirring up. It really was pushing it to stay away this long...

'_Yes…about that. I have been asked to inform you that the Durst family alpha heir wants to pay you a visit.'_ Derek felt a chill run through him. The Durst family was one of the most powerful packs in both the U.S. and Europe. The heir and future Leader of the pack was an old friend of his, Mischa. They had grown up together and gotten along fairly well- considering they were from different packs and extremely competitive- until the fire and Derek's self-imposed isolation these last years. "He's coming _here_-? To Beacon Hills!?"

_Where Stiles was_. Derek fought for calm, his wolf already rising again to stake his claim on the young man before anyone else could. **MINE**...

'_Oh, heaven's no. You marked that whole area off limits. He isn't crazy enough to go there. No- he's apparently in the next county over, waiting to make contact with you. Wants to chat, I imagine.'_

Derek released a grateful breath that he didn't realize he was holding.

"Fine. I'll meet him and tell him I wont be attending- in person, if that's the only way he'll have it."

'_Fabulous!_' Peter's grin could be heard through the phone. '_I'll send word to him and set up the meeting. You'll need to go immediately, of course. He needs to hurry back to make it in time for the start of The Hunt.'_

"Whatever. I'll leave right now." Derek agreed. He'd head straight over to meet Mischa and be back by morning. He needed to keep the man from coming into Beacon Hills to seek him out. His wolf would not tolerate another wolf near Stiles. Better to clear this up quickly...

…-^o^-…

"Did you get it?"

"Yes. We would have had it sooner, but he stayed on it for over _four hours_ talking to a female. We had to listen the _whole time_. It was terrible. I forgot how ridiculous teenage romances can be."

"Did you mask your scent? Are you sure there is no chance of him noticing that you were there?"

"Yes, Mischa. He is still a pup. Poorly trained, at that. He is already asleep and will not notice the cell phone is missing until morning."

"…Good. We need as much of a head start as possible. As we speak, Peter Hale has lured Derek away. We will make our move now, and be at the High-Den by noon tomorrow with our cargo."

The rest of the group appeared from the forest, light steps barely making a sound as they moved closer in the darkness. The gleam of their eyes caught the nearly full moon reflection.

"Send the message. Everyone take their positions and prepare to move out as soon as the boy is in hand. _Go_."

"Yes, Mischa!" Came the obedient chorus of voices around him.

And without any further words, they went- swift shadows rushing across the field towards the dark, empty high school in the distance.

…-^o^-…

_'GO-GO POWER RANGERS! Dunduh-dun-dun-dun-dunduh! GO-GO POWER RANGERS! YOU MIGHTY MORPH-'_

"EUUAAARRGGG-!" Stile threw his hand out towards the noise, slamming his fist painfully into his nightstand lamp and sending it crashing loudly to the floor. _Yikes-!_ Good thing his dad was on the nightshift tonight.

Fumbling hastily, his eyes glued shut from sleep, he finally managed to grab onto his cell phone and silence it.

"_-the fuck?!_" He groaned, squinting his eyes to peer at the bright screen.

It was a text from his (suddenly not nearly as awesome) bestie-best friend.

GREAT SCOTT!: Emergency! Meet us at the school immediately. Everyone is here.

Stiles stared at the text, waiting for his brain to shift from being pressed against a wall and licked from his ear down to his-

..._Uh, yeah_. From his dreams about a certain broody-wolf who- _for the love of GOD!_\- needed to stop dropping into his dreams and wreaking homo-erotic havoc!

Stiles tried to shake the image from his mind and focus. So, Scott and the others were at the school? At one a.m. in the morning? _Geez,_ he needed to associate with people who understood the meaning of 'working hours'!

With only a minimal amount of groaning and muttered curses, Stiles managed to get dressed and into jeep in under five minutes.

Because he was _hella-awesome_, and his friends had damn-sure better appreciate the sacrifices he makes for them.

Still blinking his bleary eyes, Stiles pulled out of the driveway and gunned it towards the school.

…-^o^-…

He parked his jeep a short distance from the school vocational hall, unsure what kind of threat he should be prepared for and definitely not wanting to draws it's attention to him. From his spot, he could make out the Freshmen Hall Men's Bathroom window, or as Stiles and the others were apt to call it, Old Faithful. The window had a broken latch for years, a well-kept and passed down secret from seniors to freshmen as part of the Beacon Hills High tradition. It had served the gang well in the past, particularly when being chased by Generic Evil Monster numbers one through two hundred, or whatever the hell they were on now.

The question was- where the hell was everybody? Inside or out?

Stiles scanned the the buildings quickly as he ducked out of the jeep. Scott's text had said meet them AT the school. What the hell did they mean? Leave it to the dude to be as vague as possible at the most inopportune times. Then again- fleeing for your life while texting with razor sharp werewolf claws probably didn't make for easy going.

Actually- wait. Stiles came to a stop just outside Old faithful, crouched low. With a frown, he pulled his cell out and re-read the text from Scott.

_Grammar? Punctuation? Correct spelling?_

Scott DID NOT send the message.

"Stiles Stilinski."

A low, powerful sounding voice sent a shudder down Stiles' spine. He turned with slow horror in the direction it came from.

His eyes fell upon the massive form of a man standing just a short distance from him, beside his jeep. At first, in the dim lighting of the street lamps, the bulky silhouette looked almost like Derek. But the voice was about ten shades less nice than Derek's (which was impressive) and the faint features of the face that were visible seemed significantly sharper and more serious (breaking Stiles commonly accepted belief that Derek was the master of the Sour-face).

Stiles' entire focus was so intent on the man who spoke his name, that it was several seconds before he realized that he was being carefully surrounded. His back pressed against the brick wall as his eyes darted around the menacing, shadowed figures closing in around him. He had just enough wherewithal to make the connection between the looming faces and the suspicious crowd that had been scoping out the lacrosse practice earlier.

_Not good…_

_So very, VERY not good..._

The first man spoke again, his voice rolling out from his mouth closer to a bark than words. "Your presence has been requested at the High-Den. You will come with us- quietly."

Witty retort-! Come on, spit it out! Something. _Anything!_ Buy time with sarcasm, or at least don't scream like a petrified man-child!

Stiles eyes finally locked- against his will- with the shadowed speaker's icy blue ones and an almost paralyzing, cold horror seemed to shoot through all of his veins.

Luckily, it really was 'almost' paralyzing, because despite his words freezing in the face of his imminent doom, Stiles' body had zero difficulty taking action.

It reacted so fast that even HE was stunned when he lurched over and into Old Faithful's small opening, slamming into the glass and feeling it give way to dump him onto the tiled floor in a heap.

The air being knocked out of him was like a shot of adrenaline to his system, kicking his brain back on. He was up on his feet with his first deep inhale, and out the restroom door by the exhale.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of infuriated howls filled the silence, reverberating off of all the surfaces around him in the dim lighting.

Holy _fuck_ was he EVER sick of werewolves! OF COURSE they were werewolves! No chance that a biker gang or opposing lacrosse team would decide to corner Stiles and make cryptic threats- Oh, no! Where was the fun in that?!

His sneakered feet echoed loudly off the walls and lockers as he sprinted down the dark hallway. When he was rounding his first corner, he heard the heavy thud of the bathroom door bursting open behind him. Shit, they were fast! He had been hoping that their bulky bodies would be slowed by the small frame of the window. No such luck! Not for Ole Stiles. How in THE HELL was he supposed to outrun werewolves in narrow school hallways?! Why didn't contractors and architects exercise just a _little bit_ more practicality when designing these death-traps!?

He needed to think quick! He had the advantage here! He knew every nook and cranny of this place, and- somehow as an upside for once!- this was actually NOT his first time being chased up and down these halls by insane homicidal supernatural entities.

He swung a quick right around another corner and shouldered his way through the heavy cafeteria doors. Skidding hard to come to a stop, he slid on his side a few feet and bounced up. Grabbing the nearest cafeteria chair, he flew to the doors to shove the metal legs of the chair into the push-bars, sealing them.

Just in time, too. A heavy crash caused the double doors to shudder on their frames and noticeably bend the legs of the chair. An angry whine of pain followed by a threatening growl sounded on the other side of the door, but THANK GOD they held firm. Okay, point one for school designers. But they're still in the negatives as far as Stiles was concerned.

"Ohoho! That sounded painful! Maybe now'd be a good time to scurry off and lick your wounds, huh?" Stiles chirped happily as he began digging his phone from his pocket to call in reinforcements.

The sound of several more- deeper- growls rumbled from the other side and suddenly the doors almost split from the force of a heavy blow.

Stiles' smug grin dropped fast as he instantly hopped nimbly over tables and chairs making for the far exit.

Okay, so insulting werewolves? Terrible idea! They're supernatural creatures with insane-strength-_ of course_ a door isn't going deter them!

_ShitShitShitShitSHIT-!_

Stiles jumped as doors bent under the blow of another jarring shove.

A loud crashing sound from the direction of the doors that led outside the building indicated that more wolves had broken the locked chains that secured those exits. A slam and the sound of panting growls was all the motivation Stiles needed to cover the remaining twenty feet to the doors in front of him in record time. He crashed through them hard, landing with a painful THUMP! against the lockers across the wall. Ricocheting off them with a new burst of energy drawn from fear and the sounds of tables being upended behind him, he scampered from the noises.

He bolted fast to the stairwell, praying his legs didn't fail him as he took them three at a time up to the second floor. He arrived on wobbling legs to the Senior Hall and moved fast for the opposite side of the building. If he could make it to the far stairwell, he could take it down to the basement. The boiler room had thick doors- point two school designers. From there he could hole up and call for help.

His breaths came out as shallow gasps as he continued through the halls a full speed. Thank GOD coach's go-to punishment was suicide runs! Stiles knew he would be a heaping pile of wheezing wolf-bait by now if he hadn't trained so hard. He was never going to ever gripe about sprints again. Hell! If he survived this, he was going to volunteer to do them every chance he got! AND he was going to give coach a huge, sloppy, grateful kiss for hating him so much!

He made it to his final turn, feet sliding as he lost tread and ate shit _hard_ on the polished floor. Unfazed, Stiles shoved himself up and attempted to build back up his momentum to reach the far end of the hall, where the stairwell sat practically bathed in a holy ray of angelic light.

He could hear more howling, more panting, and running feet back in the direction he had come. They were gaining on him fast.

The sound of shattering glass came from a room somewhere nearby, and almost immediately after a door fifteen feet ahead of Stiles crashed open as three enormous, furry bodies exploded into his path, golden eyes locking onto him instantly.

Almost without thinking, Stiles tucked his head and hunched his shoulders, letting his momentum drive him solidly into the first dense mountain of a werewolf that was in his way. To his surprise- and apparently all three of the werewolves, as well- the force of his tackle knocked the first one off his feet, slamming the huge body hard into the others. Taking advantage of his sudden element of surprise (or shock, judging by the incredulous looks on the wolves faces) Stiles stiff-armed the second wolf, feeling the extremely satisfying crunch of a nose- snout?- breaking under his hand. He kept his arm extended and tight, as he brought his feet down, stomping heavily on the first wolf's stomach then throat, and pushing forward past his prone body to clothes-line the last wolf. He went down with a choked cough and an '_UMPH_!'.

Stiles felt a exhilarating rush of pure awesomeness pump through him as he turned momentarily to glimpse the wreckage he had left in his wake. He briefly wondered in his euphoric state if this was anything like how Jackson felt during lacrosse matches as he barreled over competitors.

Stiles couldn't help but smile at the sight of the huge, manly, wolfed out figures doubled over in pain and confusion where they lay on the floor. But his victory was short-lived as an entire stream of werewolves flooded around the far corner and howled with frenzied rage at the sight of their fallen brethren. The same brethren who were now rolling back onto their feet-FUCK YOU VERY MUCH SUPER-SPEEDY HEALING POWERS-!

Stiles decided to screw personal-safety in the overwhelming shadow of an impending bloody demise, and jumped down the bank of stairs, hitting the next landing down with an ankle-crushing thump that he ignored as he repeated the process on each remaining landing. He sent up a short, but nonetheless sincere, prayer of gratitude when he toppled onto the basement level with no apparent broken bones.

The basement hallway was bathed in a red glow from the filtered lights, making it difficult to see. Luckily, Stiles had been down here enough times to move confidently and swiftly through the narrow paths and around sharp-edged equipment. The mechanical gear was loud, and the further he went, the more steam hissed and obscured his vision. He couldn't tell if he was still being followed by the angry pack.

The Boiler room was just up ahead, the metal-grated door a beautiful sight to Stiles aching chest and sore muscles. He picked up speed, ignoring the pain as his arms and shoulders slammed into valves and pipes he could barely see. He was so close-!

From just past the Boiler room door, in the direction of the back hallway and the old locker rooms, two small beams of red light appeared in the steam mist.

The beams became brighter as a dark shape began to emerge.

Stiles flung his arms out, hitting multiple metal casings and pipes painfully, but effectively stopping himself from getting any closer to beast.

Over the rattling and hissing of the gear, the unmistakeable sounds of howling echoed along the passageway behind him.

_FuckingFuckityFuck-!_

An even more close and threatening growl resonated from the figure in front of him, red eyes boring into him as it slunk closer, crouched and ready to pounce.

He was trapped.

He was going to die in the damn creepy-ass boiler room, for fuck's sake! Never had a ghost been forced to haunt a more pathetic and unseemly location since Moaning Myrtle. Stiles was going to be stuck pulling trite ghost parlor tricks on the damn janitor for all eternity!

Gasping for breath and pulling all his remaining strength together, Stiles shouted an angry curse just as the dark figure charged him and pounced.

Stiles pitched himself backwards, allowing his feet to swing up with as much energy as he could muster. His upper back and shoulders hit the concrete floor as his feet caught the creature in it's soft underbelly. He continued rolling backwards, sending the heavy form flying helplessly over his body.

He felt the brief rake of claws trying to grip onto his shirt and arms before they were gone and the sound of two hundred-plus pounds of angry, squawking werewolf collided with steel piping behind him.

Stiles rolled himself up, aching shoulder sending bolts of near-crippling pain through him. He stumbled from the pain, feeling light-headed and nauseous for a moment as he sucked in the damp, hot air.

A furious, blood-curdling howl ripped through the hall from behind him and rattled everything. Stiles winced from the proximity, his ears ringing painfully.

If ever there was a motivation to run like hell, Stiles was SURE that was it.

He threw himself at the Boiler room door, shaking hands fumbling to open it as he expected to feel sharp claws shredding into his back at any moment.

The heavy door creaked open-

-just as an enormous clawed hand grabbed his shoulder and dug in tight.

Stiles felt that entire side of his body give under the clenching pressure. He was yanked backwards as if he weighed nothing and spun around to be thrown bodily into the grating of the door, slamming it shut again.

His vision was suddenly full of hair, sharp teeth, and a penetrating red stare. The werewolf's huffing breaths brushed warm heat across his sweating face as their eyes met again under the dim red lights.

Stiles winced as the pressure on his shoulder increased and a second, huge hand gripped his free arm tightly, pinning him to the door.

A low growl started somewhere deep in the creature's throat and worked it way up and out of it's mouth.

Stiles heard himself choke out a whimper, body shuddering with fear. His legs- apparently the only part of his body that could operate under extreme terror, kicked out furiously, aiming for a solid strike to the groin _because fighting fair was OFF the table when a werewolf's jagged teeth were only inches from your jugular!_

He felt his feet making contact with the werewolf but apparently not successfully falling on his most sensitive region. It was, however, a good enough effort to further infuriate to beast in front of him. His grip tightened to the point that Stiles was sure his bones were going to be crushed to powder.

Stiles cried out, a pain-wracked shout that rang out into the loud den of the air.

To his surprise, the werewolf seemed startled by the yell, the grip on him immediately loosening.

Stiles sucked in a deep breath, and tried for one final, desperate Hail Mary.

He stretched his neck forward, opened his mouth wide, and sank his teeth into the werewolf's exposed collar.

Stiles expected the attack to be about as damaging as a flea bite- annoying the massive beast, at best.

Instead, the creature shot backwards so suddenly that he pulled Stiles with him, still attached by the teeth.

Releasing his mouth, Stiles had just enough time to take a step back, and kick his leg forward as hard as humanly possible into the vicinity of the creature's gut.

The werewolf dropped to his knees hard, then pitched forward with an almost humorous wheezing sound erupting from his lips.

But Stiles was already hauling ass away from the doubled-over form, and down the hall in the direction of the old locker rooms. Screw the Boiler room-! He'd never get inside with the werewolf crumpled in front of the door and the flickering shadows of the others already arriving where he lay crumpled.

He needed to get the hell out of the school-! Surely they were all inside by now?! How many had he seen? He wasn't exactly going to run back for a head-count, but there was a very good chance that his jeep was unguarded at this point and THAT was his best chance of survival. If he could just get to a window and make it outside-!

He burst into the old locker room and and hopped up onto a bench by the wall in one fluid movement. To his everlasting horror, his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't swing the window latch open. Every precious second was counted off by the rapid pounding of his heart in his throat. He imagined he could hear the fast patter of feet closing in from down the hall outside the door. He cursed his useless hands for failing him at such a critical moment.

Worse, the insidious thoughts were already beginning pour in, distracting him.

He almost just died.

-AND he pissed off LOTS of fucking werewolves!

-AND he REALLY pissed off a fucking ALPHA!

He had BIT the thing!

MY GOD-! I BIT AN ALPHA! I seriously NO SHIT bit an Alpha! Like I'm a-a wild animal or- or something! I BIT HIM!

OHMYGODHE'SGONNAKILLME-HANDSSTOPTRYINGTOGETMEKILLEDANDWORKDAMNIT-!

Stiles clutched the piece of rusty metal and yanked it like his life depended on it- BECAUSE HOLY FUCK- IT DID!- and the latch suddenly snapped off in his hand. Stiles threw it to the ground and half-shimmied, half-jumped up and out the high window. Furious howls rattled the glass as the sounds of bodies moving quickly came from just outside the locker room door.

He landed ungracefully on the ground just two feet under the basement-level window and sprung to his feet to bail-

-only to have his trembling legs give out underneath him, pitching him forward. He gave his heaving body only a second to recover before trying again.

This time his legs, though numb and wobbly, managed to support him. He did a quick inventory of his aches and pains as he sprinted. There were definitely going to be bruises and maybe a few small cuts, but surprisingly, he didn't seem to have any serious injuries. Nice change from the usual. Maybe he WAS getting better at this...? He took long strides towards the corner of the building, trying to figure out the fastest way to his jeep from where he was.

The sound of a growl and shattering glass behind him told him it would be TOO far.

He didn't even have a chance to spin around and SEE the creature before he felt two huge, strong arms wrapping themselves tightly around his thin frame and dragging him roughly to the damp ground. His entire body was crushed between the hard, grassy surface and the bruising weight pressing heavily into his back.

A rumbling growl sounded only an inch from Stiles ear and he knew it was over.

He had nothing left.

His breath was choking gasps that he just couldn't seem to get enough of.

Every inch of his body ached.

His muscles were over-exerted and he KNEW he wasn't going to be able to run ten more steps, even if he had the chance.

The lack of air was exacerbated by the weight on top of him (seriously- how much did this dude _weigh_?!) and it was starting to prevent his brain from processing anything more than the fact that he _couldn't breath_. He could feel darkness edging his vision, closing around him as his brain buzzed weakly. With the last breath he could muster, Stiles forced out a wheezing groan of protest, hoping that werewolf would understand that he was fucking squashing him half to death. Hopefully that mattered. Like, they were trying to _capture_ him right? That's what they said, wasn't it? They wanted to take him somewhere? Not turn him into a lifeless pancake?!

Thankfully, as soon as the weak noise left him, he felt the heavy weight leave immediately. Once the air was available he sucked in deep gasping breaths as his lungs burned for more.

He was suddenly flipped roughly onto his back.

His vision cleared slowly, and he was blinking up into the sharp red eyes of the Alpha again. Hands dug into his arms, though much less roughly than before, and Stiles felt the werewolf shift his body over his own, pinning Stiles to the ground.

With his breathing finally stabilizing, Stiles' brain began working again, sluggishly at first, but speeding up quickly.

The Alpha was still staring intently into his eyes from just inches away, as if watching Stiles closely, following his thoughts as they slowly returned. It's breathing was ragged, much like Stiles' own, and the warm huffing breaths were tickling his face.

The hands on Stiles arms moved slowly, up and down, almost _soothingly._ At the same time, the Alpha's head dipped lower, it's nose seeming to sniff lightly over Stiles prone form.

It's head dropped lower still, nose rubbing along Stiles' throat, where he was still gasping shallowly.

Suddenly, Stiles felt the sharp drag of teeth ghosting over his throat, sending a jolt through his body. He instinctively cringed from the feeling, mind helpfully supplying terrifying images of ripped out throats. What the hell was this?! A sampling? An appetizer?!

The wolf gave a short- but very clear- warning growl that froze Stiles in place.

The teeth returned, traveling slowly and lightly down the sensitive flesh of his neck to his collar, then back up, where it gave a quick nip just below his ear. Stiles couldn't help but jump at the unexpected twinge of pain, a small, unstoppable whine coming from somewhere inside him.

The wolf made a almost gleeful sound, nipping again, then licking the sharp sting away. The creature rolled it's hip once, grinding them against Stiles crotch, and forcing a surprised, breathy moan from the young man.

Which was weird. _Right_? Like, yeah, NOT being mauled and turned into a wolf dinner was totally awesome, but, uh... _what WAS happening, exactly...?_

Stiles bit his lips, twisting his neck away from the warm mouth as he began desperately trying to slide himself free from under the bulky form. Even dazed as he was, it was becoming increasingly clear to Stiles that the werewolf on top of him was NOT ripping him to shreds. In fact, he seemed to be taking an _entirely different approach_.

Unfortunately, his twisting and bucking was only causing the creature to become more excited, judging by the breathy grunts, happy keening sounds, and- _oh, yeah_\- the raging hard on that was pressing against him through their clothes.

And he seemed to be taking the sounds coming from Stiles- despite his best efforts to muffle them- as encouragement.

It wasn't that being dry-humped by a heavily-muscled, hairy Alpha was necessarily a turn on. It was just a matter of biology. Stiles was a teenager for God's sake. This was the most action he had gotten from another ANYTHING since his last annual Sports Physical! He couldn't control his reaction- it was just _happening_.

And, as a last little bit of irony, a very similar scenario involving a different muscular Alpha had very recently played out in his dreams...

So, if Stiles happened to become disoriented from the rocking thrusts and silky-smooth mouth gliding over his soft throat, it was completely reasonable and acceptable and fuck anybody that was judging him because-_shititfeltsogood_\- and was WAY better than a slow and painful death-!

Fact: Stiles has issues. LOTS of issues.

"Mischa! Stop at once!" A loud voice cut through Stiles' fuzzy thoughts like a knife. He opened his eyes- when the hell did he close them?!- and saw several worried looking faces staring at them from a safe distance away, shuffling around nervously as if they wanted to do something, but were not going to be the stupid person who actually DID. Stiles couldn't see the speaker from where he lay with his head turned. The werewolf on top of him lifted it's head, just barely, to growl a low warning before returning with renewed vigor to Stiles neck. The voice sounded desperate as it tried again, "MISCHA! You must get off of that young man! This is not the time or place to stake your claim! If Derek Hale finds out-"

Stiles eyes widened at Derek's name, his mind clearing suddenly.

Derek-! If Derek finds out..what? That Stiles was- was practically sprinting to third base with a werewolf that hadn't even bought him dinner yet?! Holy shit-! What the hell was happening? A werewolf – a GUY/MALE/DUDE/PENIS-POSSESSING WOLF MAN- was NO SHIT on top of him getting freaky, and he was LETTING HIM. Not to mention already sporting an obvious and embarrassing erection as a result!

If dying from embarrassment was possible, it would happen _right now_. And it would be SO welcome.

Panic helped give Stiles a sudden burst of strength, which he used to shove forcefully against the strong arms and heavy chest holding him in place.

Which had absolutely no effect. Unless you counted _really_ pissing the dude off. The wolf pulled back angrily with a grunt to stare at him again, and Stiles thought he saw something close to hurt in the glowing red eyes.

And then the weight abruptly lifted from him, and the very hairy, terrifying face changed into a much less scary face that was nonetheless threatening and furious. The red eyes faded to their previous bright shade of blue and Stiles recognized him as the man who spoke to him by his jeep earlier.

Stiles was so stunned by the man's actions, by what had just happened, and by the entire horrifying situation that he didn't move an inch from where he lay on the ground, gaping.

The large group that was circled around them didn't make a sound, their wide eyes all on the Alpha as he shook his head several times, almost like he was trying to clear it.

Finally, several deathly-silent moments later, the Alpha lifted his eyes, sharp blue glaring accusingly at Stiles, and he bit out, "Take him to the van. NOW. We are leaving at once!"

And that furious, steely glare was the last thing Stiles saw before everything went black...


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for the Reviews, Favs and Follows. I'm still having a lot fun, so I'm glad you all are as well! Don't hesitate to point out stuff that looks weird or wrong- I may confuse my Werewolf universes with other shows or movies. Keep me honest, please. I'm trying to stick as close to the TW universe as possible in the AS.

Note: **Bold font** is when the inner-wolf is in control and speaking. ; )

Otherwise, just have fun with it!

* * *

Peter let his phone ring several times before answering. He checked his watch.

Just after nine a.m. in Beacon Hills.

Right on time...

"Hel-"

A furious howl resonated painfully loud on the other end of the line.

Peter sighed dramatically. "Derek, you KNOW I can't understand you when you growl into the phone like that." He tried to keep the smirk out of his voice. This was going to be even better than Peter had hoped. Apparently his nephew had lost control over his wolf. What fun...

_**'YOU-! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?!'**_

Another sigh. "I assume you are referring to Stiles?"

**_'GGRRRRAAAAHHHHHRRRGGGG-!'_**

"Don't you take that tone with me, nephew. This is your own fault. We had to do SOMETHING to get you out here."

_**'GGGRRRRRRAAAHH- I'LL KILL'M AND YOU-! ALL OF THEM-! RIP MISCHA TO SHREDS-!'**_

In the background, he heard Isaac's soothing voice, _'Please, you need to relax. Someone is going to see you wolfed out Derek!'_

And an obnoxiously earnest voice he recognized as Scott's, _'Ask him about Stiles! Does he know where he is?'_

Peter muffled a chuckle, and tried to sound disapproving, "Well, that's a bit excessive. Really, Derek, they were all just following the Board's orders. Stiles will be fine. He should be arriving in a little-"

**_'AARRGGGHHH- THE BOARD HAS NO RIGHT-! THEY DARE ALLOW MISCHA TO TOUCH WHAT IS MINE- I'LL KILL'M ALL!'_**

_'Derek, seriously- you have to calm down,'_ came Isaac's urgent voice.

"Yes, Derek. Calm yourself. They just pulled a quick grab and go. No one is actually going to make a move on _Stiles._" Peter snorted at the idea, "He's fine-"

_**'I SMELL IT-! MISCHA'S SCENT IS EVERYWHERE! MIXED WITH STILES' AND- AAAGGGRRRHH- HE TOUCHED WHAT IS MINE- HE WILL DIE-!'**_

Peter's face dropped from a grin into a confused frown. "What are you talking about? You're saying you smell Mischa mixed with Stiles? Why is that so upsetting? He had to-"

**_'EVERYWHERE! ALL OVER THE GROUND! HE TOUCHED HIM! HE TRIED TO CLAIM WHAT IS MINE-! AAARRRGGHHHAAAHH-'_**

Erica's voice this time, clearly panicking, _'Oh my God- just knock him out before someone in the school looks out one of the windows and sees him!'_

Boyd answered her, flustered, _'We can't- UNH!- just knock- OW!- him out!'_

_'Why not? You want him to be seen by half the damn school?'_ Erica was hissing.

_'She's right,'_ Peter recognized the voice of Allison Argent. So, they were still slumming it with hunters? Pathetic, really. The girl continued, '_I think I have some wolfsbane in my backpack. Maybe we can use it to sedate him for a while?'_

The sound of Derek's warning growl and Boyd's pained grunts told Peter that the idea had not been received well by his nephew.

_'I'm with Boyd on this,'_ Isaac's voice stated, _'The problem is that eventually he will REGAIN consciousness and probably kill us. But we need to do something… Here-! Erica help us hold him down! Scott, get the phone from him!'_

There was several seconds of static fuzz, thumping, and muffled voices before Scott's voice came from the phone.

_'Peter- where the hell is Stiles?! What have you done with him?!'_

In the background was the pained whines and furious growls of Derek mingled with the shuffling and panting of the others as they apparently tried to hold him down, away from the phone.

"No- hold on a second- what did Derek mean about the scents? Are you where he was picked up? What can you smell?" Peter almost growled.

_'Yeah, we're at the school!'_ Scott's shouted accusingly. _'There's a spot outside- the last place we can smell Stiles. His-his scent is, uh... Yeah….and there's another- um… Th-they smell-'_

"You had better NOT say '_horny_'." Peter bit the word out lowly.

Derek's enraged howl made the phone shrill with feedback. Peter had to hold it away from his sensitive ears, wincing.

_'Er…I was going to say 'lustful'. With, like, a crap-ton of fear mixed in! Peter, what the-'_

"You tell Derek to get his ass to the High-Den- NOW. I've already arranged the jet to be ready at the Beacon Hills Airport." Peter barked the order angrily into the phone, confident his nephew could hear him. "This has just become a huge fucking mess. I'll deal with Mischa Durst as soon as the group arrives here with Stiles."

_'Wait! The high-what?! Where-'_

Peter slammed the phone down, hanging up on the group.

Perfect. Months- hell, years- of planning and it was all teetering dangerously after just one night.

Mischa Durst had a LOT of explaining to do.

…-^o^-…

Stiles began to awaken slowly, over several intermittent periods of consciousness.

Each time he was a little less dazed. His vision a little less blurry.

But his brain just couldn't seem to catch up.

As he finally began to fully awake, his groggy mind registered his surroundings slowly.

He was laying down inside a small space. The bumps and swings he felt even with his eyes closed told him it was a vehicle. Big area, because he was laying down flat. Maybe a van.

And he wasn't alone.

There were several voices speaking in low tones around him. Bodies shuffling occasionally.

He made an effort to move his numb body, but couldn't manage it. He may have been tied down. Or just to weak from the drugs to force his muscles into action.

_Drugs… Had he been drugged with something…?_

He tried to recall what was happening. His mind protested, the lightheadedness still clouding everything. There was a very real threat of a massive head-ache on the horizon.

He knew there had been werewolves. Lots and lots of terrifying- fast- werewolves. At the high school. And running. And a pair of glowing red eyes sooo uncomfortably close to his face….

And a less horrifying- but infinitely more embarrassing- public make-out session that he had been entirely too receptive of at the time. With a (cards on the table- smoking hot) DUDE. Who was also, inconveniently enough, an Alpha werewolf. But not HIS smoking hot Alpha werewolf.

He did have many Derek like traits, though...

Chasing. _Check_. Growling. _Check_. Intimidating stare. _Check._ Tendency to throw Stiles roughly against walls. _Check_. Body worthy of worship. _Double-check._

The fact that two ridiculously good-looking Alpha werewolves existed at the same time in the world added fuel to Stiles long-standing argument. It just wasn't acceptable! What kind of just and loving God allowed that sort of thing to _happen_?

Really, no one should be surprised that Stiles had been turned on! Adrenaline, fear, and teenage hormones were to blame, clearly. Now, he just needed to convince himself of that…

Stiles swallowed, a small groan escaping his dry lips. He kept his eyes closed.

"He's starting to wake up. What do you think- give him another dose of chloroform?" A male voice right next to Stiles left side asked quietly.

"No, we're just outside the High-Den now, it looks like. They'll want him conscious when we arrive." Came an answering male voice.

Stiles focused on slowly moving the muscles in his fingers and toes. He would need them if he had an opportunity to escape. Feeling was slowly coming back. He felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation that grew with each passing minute. He wiggled carefully with the rocking of the vehicle, testing for anything tying him down. He seemed to be free- unless being a virtual prisoner in your own body counted.

After just a short amount of time, he felt the vehicle roll to a stop, and heard the sounds of shuffling increase around him.

The dull hum of many voices filled the interior of the van as the doors opened.

And Stiles- remember him? The guy whose brain was drugged up and very confused?- took his chances and flung himself forward, springing for the open doors with every bit of strength he could muster into his stiff limbs.

His entire body landed painfully like a log onto the pavement outside. He flopped uselessly for several moments like a fish out of water before concluding that- Nope- his muscles were NOT in agreement with his mind that they should flee.

He stilled on the ground, breathing deeply to catch his breath for several moments before trying to state casually with his heavy tongue to the many pairs of shoes and bare feet (?) surrounding him, "Whew! Boyee, wath it getting sthuffy in therh! Ugh… litthel helppth-?"

The bright sunlight burned his eyes, but he blinked through the sensation. He couldn't stretch his head up higher than knee level of his captors. And why were there so many now? Who were all these people? And where was he?

After a long, silent pause, a familiar voice, laced with exasperation, spoke from a few feet away. "Alright everyone, show's over. Pick him up and take him inside, please."

Stiles' body stiffened. Part of him wanted to breathe a sigh of relief that Peter Hale was there.

The OTHER part of him was screaming loudly that- oh, shit!- Peter Fucking Hale was there. Talk about mixed feelings…

Before Stiles could attempt to form the words 'What the Fuck?', a strong hand was on his arm and Peter's sharp voice cut him off. "NOT YOU, Mischa! Only Hale Pack members will touch him from this point on!" Well, he sounded _pissed.._.

Stiles heard an intake of breaths from the owners of the growing number of shoes and feet in his sight. He felt the hand on his arm clench for a moment, before releasing its grip.

The tension was thick in the air. Stiles fought the urge to fill it with more positive conversation, like 'how about that last football game, huh? Kinda makes you not want to kill teenage boys, right? Anyone?' Instead, he kept his mouth shut and tried not to drool from his numb mouth. Captive, remember? Let the bad guys be as upset as they want- as long as it is not directed at you. You've got bigger problems then social mediation anyway.

But that name, Mischa, sparked a memory. Stiles face suddenly began to burn as a hot-flush rushed across it.

That was HIM, wasn't it? Tall, dark and terrifying? The one who-

Two pairs of hands suddenly lifted Stiles helpless body up. He was finally able to see many of the faces of the group surrounding him. His vicious captors. The ruthless enemy forces conspiring with the- almost definitely evil- Peter Hale.

Stiles' eyes roved hurriedly over the many faces, trying to take in as many identifying details as possible.

Surprisingly, they all looked fairly normal. Well, the ones he recognized as his captors were still just as scary as ever, but there were more faces. More women. A few elderly looking grandparent-types, complete with adorable cardigans. Several plump middle-aged ladies in yoga pants and uggs holding coffee cups. In fact, everyone appeared to be standing in the middle of a city square full of un-terrifying shops and businesses.

It was very...anti-climactic.

As Stiles was half-dragged by two men into the door of a building a few feet away, he even caught sight of a group of children chasing each other down the street nearby and laughing merrily, the picture of a happy community.

And that would have been perfectly acceptable in Stiles' mind, if three of them were not _partially wolfed-out and running on all fours..._

Yep. Not in Kansas anymore. Definitely.

…-^o^-…

As soon as Stiles was inside the City Hall building, Peter moved fast, coming up dangerously close to Mischa Durst as the growing crowd watched nervously.

"What the HELL do you think you are doing?! Your orders were to pick up Derek's unclaimed mate- not try to claim him for yourself!" Peter bit out lowly, inches from Mischa's unreadable face.

The man stared him down, silent. Around them, more people gasped and several shifted nervously.

"Answer me, **Hurst**!" Peter's blue eyes glowed as he barked the order.

Mischa remained silent, but his eyes flashed red, indicating his anger at being addressed by the beta wolf. The air practically surged with electricity as the two werewolves began to hunch into striking positions. Eyes flashed, their wolves rising eagerly to the surface.

"**That is enough. You will both control your wolves and your tempers at once.**" The heads of everyone in the crowd, now numbering close to forty spectators from several packs, all ducked at the sound of the voice, necks turned in offering of respect. The two men caught themselves, proffering their necks immediately as well.

The ominous figure of Nicholae Hurst stepped forward to where both Peter and Mischa stood, eyes downcast. Bearing a striking resemblance to his son, Nicholae was older and his eyes glowed red permanently, a constant reminder of his wolf's proximity to the surface of his conscience. The man looked them both over with sharp, glowing red eyes that never wavered. His frown seemed to deepen.

"**Peter Hale, why are you addressing my son, the Durst pack leader, with such disrespect? I would expect two pack leaders to behave better in front of visitors and guests at this time of year. Explain yourself."**

Peter kept his eyes downcast and neck exposed as he answered, choosing his words carefully. "Sir," the word was bit out through sharp, extended teeth, "when I asked for Mischa to lead the group to Beacon Hills, I made it VERY clear that Stiles Stilinki was my nephew's chosen mate. That was the whole POINT of the mission. Knowing that, he has STILL chosen to make a public claim on what should be Derek's mate."

Nicholae Hurst was known for his severe and imperturbable demeanor. As a prestigious former pack leader and a member of the Board, he was one of a select few werewolves capable of maintaining his wolf in control, and in sync with, his human side. He was a fearsome man that rarely ever faltered.

And so, his startled grunt of shock was heard by everyone in the large crowd. Even the children running along the sidewalk, snapped their heads in the direction of the formidable man.

Mischa cringed almost imperceptibly at the sound, but both his father and Peter Hale caught the involuntary gesture.

"**…Mischa,**" Nicholae's voice gave nothing away as all ears in the area perked to hear, "**Is that true? You have finally made an intent to claim?**"

"…yes, sir." Came the slow reply.

Nicholae's eyes bore into his son, who kept his gaze directed at the ground. "**Explain**."

Mischa spoke in a hushed hurry, not looking up at his father. "We lured him out-"

Yet another shock for all present, Nicholae sucked in a startled breath so abruptly that he choked. "**Hi-him-?" This 'Stiles' is a boy?**"

Mischa's eyes fluttered shut as his face reddened noticeably. "Yes, father." He took a deep breath and continued haltingly, "We attempted to capture him peacefully. He fled. The situation… escalated. I allowed my wolf to take control and he- we made a...decision."

All eyes widened at the admission. Mischa's father furrowed his brow in deep thought as he watched his son closely.

Peter growled, "Decision? It's a decision, now? That's not acceptable! You KNOW that young man is my nephew's chosen mate. That's why I sent YOU! YOU of all people should be able to exercise control and respect what belongs to Derek. This is a betrayal."

"The mission was not as simple as expected. AND we were not given sufficient details. _By you_, Peter Hale. That- that boy led my team on an extensive chase, and took down several of both your pack members and mine! We were not informed that he was capable of resisting against us! It should have been **mentioned beforehand**!" Mischa's voice was like gravel as his eyes flashed red.

"So your response was to roll around with him in the damn grass like a horny pup!? Stake a hasty claim on him? My nephew has gone to the school! He scented your arousal!"

If possible the large group's eyes widened even more, and several jaws dropped. Mischa's face was practically radiating heat from embarrassment. His head stayed down, eyes not meeting anyone else's. The obvious social impropriety of attempting to claim the mate of another was amplified by the status of the wolves involved. The Durst pack leader and the future Hale pack leader were nearly celebrities, some would even equate them to royalty among the packs. A fight for the same mate was big news. That both men had chosen a human-surprising. A human MALE was astounding. Wolves didn't discriminate, but it was a shock on top of many other shocks, nonetheless.

The sound of several low whines from the rest of the group who had gone with Mischa drew their attention. One man finally spoke up hesitantly, addressing Nicholae, with his eyes low and tone respectful. "Sir. There- there was an extenuating circum-"

Mischa's furious growl cut him off.

His father's answering snarl sent shudders through the crowd and caused Mischa to whimper.

"**You will let him speak!**" Nicholae ordered.

For a moment, it seemed like Mischa would actually challenge his father. Instead, he clenched his hands, extended claws cutting deep, and was silent.

"**Continue!**" Barked Nicholae at the man, eyes still watching his son's behavior carefully.

The man shifted in obvious discomfort before stating hurriedly, "He-he bit HIM first, sir. The boy bit Mischa during the capture. We all saw the mark before it had time to heal." Around the man, several heads were nodding emphatically, supporting his account. He whispered the last part, cheeks flushing, "Er... on the collar, sir."

Peter, Nicholae, and the entire crowd gawked at Mischa, searching for some sort of confirmation from the man. No one made a sound. The younger man's face flushed a darker shade of red and he refused to tear his gaze from the pavement.

"Ah… Okay-" Peter's manically-cheerful voice suddenly filled the stunned silence as all eyes remained on Mischa's blushing countenance. "So, disclaimer! I probably should have mentioned this from the get-go. Don't know how it slipped my mind, but- Stiles is actually a HUGE idiot. _Massive_. I mean, no offense to my nephew, but I'm completely serious. The important thing here, is that we keep this in perspective." Peter raised his hands for emphasis, "There is NO WAY that Stiles was intentionally making a sexual advance on Mischa. None! BIG misunderstanding-!"

"**Silence, Peter.**" Nicholae drawled out, his voice dangerously low while his eyes continued watching his son. "**Intention is one thing, but the wolf will react as it sees fit when it receives a proposition.**" He paused, thoughtfully, before asking, "**So, this 'Stiles' is a young… man?**"

Both Peter and Mischa nodded, eyes down. Nicholae stared at his son, brow still furrowed.

"**Is he of age?**"

Mischa glanced quickly at Peter, who reluctantly answered, "He…he turned eighteen about five months ago, sir."

"**And he has not been claimed by Derek yet? Not even scenting? No markings?**"

Both men shook their heads slowly.

Nicholae's stern face was a mask of concentration as he considered all of this. After several tense seconds, his voice rose, addressing not just Peter and Mischa, but the entire collective group listening for his verdict.

"**I speak now on behalf of the Board. If Derek Hale has not taken action to make his claim, then there is enough doubt to question the credibility of it. Therefore, Mischa is a fair contender to make his own claim on the young man. It will be settled by The Hunt this evening. That is ASSUMING Derek Hale makes an appearance to defend his claim.**" He turned to address Peter, "**I am not convinced that there is any evidence, aside from your word Peter Hale, that your nephew has any intention to take the young man as his mate. The circumstances are… suspicious." The older man growled out.**

Peter appeared flustered at the accusation, but chose wisely to keep his mouth shut.

Mischa finally raised his head and murmured, "Thank you, father."

Nicholae gave him a final searching look, then one short nod of the head, before turning and stepping into the City Hall building.

After casting a sharp parting glare at Mischa, Peter stomped inside after Nicholae to find Stiles.

Mischa was left standing outside, while the crowd erupted into excited chatter around him.

The Durst pack leader and the heir to the Hale pack, both fighting to claim a human BOY?

This was going to be a very exciting Hunt.

…-^o^-…

Peter entered the small room where Stiles was being held for transfer. The young man was still recovering from the drugs, his body leaning sluggishly to the right in his chair, and his head tilted oddly.

When Peter took a seat across from him at the small table in the center of the room, Stiles made an effort to glare at him. It had significantly less impact considering the pathetic state the body was in. But, it appeared his mouth was back in fine working order. "What the fuck, dude!? Where am I?"

Peter just scrutinized the young man for several moments.

This was his nephew's chosen mate. This…

No convenient description came to mind, so Peter settled for 'This STILES.'

Just incredible. This ridiculous teenager would be THE MATE of the future Hale Pack Leader.

They were going to be a laughing stock.

That was assuming Mischa did not succeed in claiming him during The Hunt this evening, just five short hours away.

Peter sighed and leaned forward to meet Stiles' angry eyes. "Tell me, Stiles, you like Derek, don't you?"

The boy's face scrunched up at the abrupt question. "…Eh? I- I guess. He's not, like, particularly horrible as far as werewolves go. Practically a saint compared to YOU. I mean- when he isn't threatening to kill me or acting emotionally constipated at least- which is, like, ninety-nine point nine percent of the time… Um, why are we talking about Derek right now? Does all of this have something to do with him?"

Not exactly a heart-wrenching admission of love. Peter tried again, phrasing the words more carefully. "Sorry. I should have been more clear," he drawled, "What I mean is, you would consider him fucking you 'enjoyable'?"

Stiles entire body shot from his seat, then toppled over ungracefully to the floor as Stiles squawked loudly, "Wha-!? No seriously- WHAT the honest and truthful FUCK!? You can't just-! Why would you-? OH-MY-GOD- YOUARESUCHACREEPYPERVERT! What is wrong with you, dude!?"

Peter remained in his seat, eyes on the wiggling form trying to rise on wobbling arms and legs. That was a better response, but still not an emphatic 'yes'. This was going to be a problem. Nothing short of a 'Hell, yes! I love only Derek with all of my heart!' was going to dissuade Mischa's advances. And that did NOT seem likely to happen before the start of The Hunt.

This would have been a lot easier if Mischa had not become entangled in it. And if his father were not a member of the Board. As the governing body for all werewolves, the Board was the final say in all legal matters amongst the packs. They were also the overseers of The Hunt. And the enforcers for all matters decided by The Hunt. If Mischa claimed Stiles before Derek, then the issue was settled in their minds. Not good…

The boy finally managed to clutch the edge of the table and raise himself up enough to flop his torso onto it and catch his breath.

"You see," Peter continued in his same conversational tone, as if he hadn't been interrupted by Stiles' completely transparent outburst of denial, "the problem is that Derek is en route at this very moment to _collect you_, Stiles. And you should be asking yourself 'Why' he would drop everything and fly across several states, just for an exasperating teenage boy with a loud mouth."

From where his head was still helplessly tilted flat on the table, Stiles wide brown eyes looked over at Peter. "Huh? Derek is coming here? To rescue ME? Wh-why?! He hates me!"

Peter frowned with increasing annoyance, but didn't answer. Instead, he asked out loud, "Another good question, that I, personally, would LOVE to have answered, is why you thought it prudent to BITE a werewolf you were not acquainted with." His voice was laced with acid, despite his smile.

Stiles gave a sort of full-body shrug from where he was draped across the table, then replied rationally, "Because I didn't want to die in the goddamn boiler room! It seemed like an appropriate reaction at the time! How come you get to run around biting people left and right and turning people's best friends into creatures of the night, but I bite one homicidal maniac- who's about to rip my throat out and share my VERY unappetizing corpse with his friends- and suddenly I'm the bad guy!? You know, your double-standards are bullsh-"

Peter was already walking to the door. He was developing a headache. How Derek could stand it…

Well, no accounting for taste.

"Hey-hey, wait! You still haven't told me what the hell is going on! Where am I? What are you going to do with me?" Stiles rolled himself with difficulty to face the exit and meet Peter's eyes.

Peter gave him a brief smile, flashing white teeth. "You're at the 'High-Den'. The Werewolf Capitol City in North America. You were brought here to be bait for my nephew. At least, that was the plan before you went and _ruined everything_. As for now? Well, now things get… _interesting._"

He walked out, shutting the door behind him and leaving the teen to panic freely.

Once outside the room, Peter spoke sharply to the two Hale pack men guarding the door. "Transport him to the Commencement Center," he ordered.

As he began walking down the long corridor he drew up short, adding tightly, "And keep him away from any more Alphas- _just to be safe_…."

...-^o^-…

A pissed off Stiles was 'escorted' back to the large van he had arrived in. With the nearly complete return of his muscle control, Stiles went out of his way to make the burly men's efforts as difficult as possible.

There was still a lingering crowd standing outside as he was unceremoniously tossed kicking and shouting into the back of the vehicle. Surprisingly his captors seemed more embarrassed to be handling his furiously-convulsive form than he felt about resisting them.

The crowd watched in a hushed silence as he was forced inside.

The doors were closed on him with a loud slam. No windows. No handles to exit from the inside. He was trapped. In the back of a dark van. Being taken to God-only-knows where.

Great! Sure, not being drugged up this time was a good sign, but- Fuck! What the hell was going on here?! And what was up with Peter's cryptic words?

There were just way too many questions.

Stiles felt the van lurch, nearly slamming him headfirst into the back doors. Bright-side: a few dim running lights came on, so he could SEE the doors that almost cracked his skull open.

"Thanks a lot jack-asses! No seat belts back here, you know? Maybe driving safely would be a good idea, what'dya think?!" He yelled loudly, unsure if his voice was even carrying to the front of the van. Hopefully their sharp werewolf hearing could pick it up.

He slid his back down the side of the van's wall. Yelling was pointless, he knew. He needed a plan. It seemed as if they weren't going to kill him, at least, that was the impression Stiles had from his unpleasant visit with Peter. Of course, that meant nothing. There were still, like, a billion ways he could be tortured without being killed immediately. Fucking fantastic!

And where the hell was he!? No way it was still California. It all just felt… different.

Plus, Peter said Derek was flying to this place, across several states, so it had to be a huge distance from home.

So, scratch _running_ off the list of possible escape plans.

But then, Derek… flying from his cozy little wolf's den/trainstation in Beacon Hills to 'collect' Stiles?

Seriously, fuck-! Any chance Derek wasn't going to be super-pissed with him for getting abducted? Any at all? Yeah, huge 'nope' there. Derek was going to beat Stiles tiny breakable bones into powder for being such a stupid, helpless human pain in his ass.

"I am so screwed…" Stiles whined quietly to himself in the emptiness of the van.

The van suddenly skidded to a hard stop, sending Stiles rolling roughly into the sides.

"OUCH! But,_ really_ dudes! NO SEAT BELTS OR ANYTHING BACK HERE!" He picked himself up gingerly, checking for which of the many sore places were the most painful. The loud sounds of muffled shouts and angry howls from outside had Stiles shutting up quickly.

An attack…?

Derek-?!

Oh, shit- would that scowling face be welcome right now- even if it did come with a massive ass-beating!

The noises quieted outside.

Stiles made a quick decision.

He positioned himself to lunge from the van as soon as the doors were opened. If it was Derek, fine. No worries at all there! Derek was used to Stiles poor decisions in the face of terrifying ordeals. But if it wasn't…

Yeah, no sense sitting inside the van for whatever horrors Option B held.

Dropping into a crouch, Stiles prepared himself to barrel through whoever, or whatever, was stupid enough to open the doors and come in for him.

He didn't need to wait long.

The door was suddenly thrown open with a sharp click, and Stiles flew at the exit, shoulders dipped to make maximum contact and clear anyone or thing in his way.

He felt his body make contact with another, more solid body, which let out a startled grunt at the impact. Stiles was airborne for a brief moment, feet ready to bolt as soon as they felt solid ground beneath them.

Instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him tight against the firm body. The next second, Stiles was being hefted full-bodily back into the van.

He struggled, kicking back against the body holding him while trying to wiggle around to face his latest captor.

A breathy voice rumbled next to his ear, "Stop doing that- I don't have much time."

It was NOT Derek's voice. So much for wishful thinking…

Stiles gave up resisting as the arms tightened around him threatening to strangle the air from his lungs. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he was slowly released.

Stiles spun clumsily around-

-to find the Alpha from the school watching him intently.

_Mischa_, they had called him. He was all icy blue eyes and a perfect jaw line. And-shit! He was positioned so that Stiles would have to go around him to make it back out of the van.

Which wasn't a possibility. The guy was a more effective deterrent to escape than the metal walls of the van itself. For a moment Stiles wandered if this meeting was going to devolve into another partially-unwelcome groping party like before. He swallowed thickly at the thought. Because when was Stiles' last, like, shower...? And his breath was probably-

No. NONONO. Stop. None of that, Stiles. This dude was an enemy.

Trapped again. This time, by a gay, bi-polar Alpha werewolf. Stiles had all the luck…

"I have to be quick." The man stated, his deep, hurried voice cutting into the silence sending shivers through Stiles body. His sharp blue eyes never left Stiles' brown ones. His next words almost made Stiles risk rushing past him for escape. "I want you. I will come for you from the direction of the Durst pack territory tonight, at The Hunt. Run in that direction and I will meet you. I would steal you away now, but… it is not _authorized_. I must _compete_ for you." He seemed very unhappy that he was being forced to wait. Stiles made a horrified choking sound as the man continued, growling. "I promise I will be a good mate. You will not regret it." He nodded for emphasis and... _was he blushing_?! Before Stiles could react, the man crowded into his very limited personal space, and kissed him.

On the lips.

Briefly, but very enthusiastically.

Like, _hand cupping the back of his head_ and all.

Stiles didn't return the kiss- on principle. But, he had to admit...it was tempting. The fact that ANYONE was actually willing to kiss Stiles was a dramatic turn of events in Stiles life. In fact, maybe Stiles SHOULD-

The Alpha pulled away with a short huff, staring at Stiles with those clear blue eyes. For a second it looked like he was sniffing the air. He seemed… _pleased_. Maybe even close to smiling, which probably would make him look even more amaz- Shit! NO! NO-NAUGHTY-THOUGHTS! For Christ's sake, he could probably SMELL Stiles' arousal as it was! _Fuck-!_

Then suddenly the man was gone, the doors of the van shutting loudly on a frozen Stiles. From outside, he heard him yell out, "Release the Hale pack men. We're done here."

A few minutes later, there was the sound of the front doors slamming shut, and the van was moving again.

Stiles sat frozen on the floor where the Alpha had left him, the sensation of the man's warm lips lingering on his own.

All he could think as the van returned to bumping and rocking, carrying him to where ever the hell he was being taken, was '_Oh-my-God, I think a super-hot, gay werewolf just hit on me.'_

..-^o^-...

'Haha! Poor Stiles is so confused. Next chapter, Derek and crew arrive!

Let me know how it is looking so far, too! I can't really tell if you all like it or not unless you Fav it or leave Reviews, so don't be shy!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Well, this update took an embarrassingly long time. Sorry for that. The plot is already planned out, it's just the typing part that slows me down. I should have more time to focus on the story now, though. Big thanks to every one who Reviewed or Favorited during my break! I *love* hearing from you all.

Enjoy!

...-^o^-...

Six hours after departing from Beacon Hills the small plane landed and rolled haltingly to a stop on the dark asphalt of a small airport surrounded by sunny green woods in all directions. Before the airport crew were even half-way to the plane with the debarkation ladderwell, the plane's airtight door burst open.

Five partially wolfed-out werewolves tumbled the fifteen feet onto the tarmac, landing in a groaning pile below. Whimpering pathetically they rolled and staggered in separate directions on shaking legs, hands and knees.

Above them, at the door, Allison appeared, eyes wide with sympathy as she stared down at the group.

Derek was the first to successfully stand upright, having experienced the 'joys' of flight several times before. There was a lot to be said about the convenience and speed of air travel, but it was not an ideal mode of transportation for ANY land bound supernatural creatures- especially those with enhanced senses. If getting to Stiles quickly had not been at the top of Derek's priorities, he would have never taken up Peter's offer to fly them all to the High-Den.

Forcing his body to stop shaking weakly, Derek glowered towards the small terminal where a large group had appeared from inside, slowly approaching the Beacon Hills pack. Leading the crowd at the front was Peter, smiling cheerfully.

Derek was fifty feet down the small strip and on him in less than five seconds.

"**Where. Is. Stiles-!?**" Derek demanded, clutching his uncle's shirt in a tight fist. His eyes flashed brightly as his wolf snapped just behind his consciousness.

Peter's smile didn't falter. "Come now, Derek, don't be rude. Say hello to the pack- it's been too long since we had a family reunion!"

Derek growled lowly, but allowed his eyes to sweep the faces of the people behind Peter.

Peter wasn't kidding- the head of EVERY Hale pack branch was shuffling uncomfortably nearby, eyes either trained to the ground or staring with interest towards the recovering wolves by the plane. Fifteen leaders total- all alphas- were waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from the Hale Heir.

Derek reluctantly released Peter's shirt, stepping back stiffly.

He was out of line. Close to losing his temper and control of his wolf already. It was a godsend that only Hale pack members were present. Such a lack of bearing from an alpha was an embarrassment to any pack.

Of course, that was probably what Peter had anticipated when he planned all this. Not even he would want the pack to look weak to outsiders…

Derek felt the familiar flush of embarrassment that he always seemed to have around the other Hale Pack leaders. His own…_inadequacies_…thrown in his face with every mis-step. The rigid formalities and customs of werewolf culture were almost lost in all the time he had spent away.

Derek spoke carefully through clenched teeth as he formally addressed the pack leaders. "Good evening and…well met," his voice stumbled over the familiar greeting, his wolf snapping furiously, eager to find Stiles and ensure that he was safe. Formalities were a human-based custom. Wolves got on fine with a quick sniff of the ass and wag of the tail. Derek took a breath and continued, "Please allow me to introduce our newest Hale pack members, my betas-"

Derek stopped abruptly, realizing that all the alphas' eyes were already focused behind him as he turned to gesture to his pack. He paused, up-raised arm dropping as he took in the sight across the tarmac.

On the dark grey of the asphalt, his pack was scattered, still pathetically attempting to recover from the flight.

Boyd's huge frame was seated cross-legged, rocking forward and back. His eyes were squeezed shut and mouth set in a tight grimace.

Practically hanging from his side by her extended claws, Erica was shivering through ragged breaths. Her face was buried his arm so that only her long blonde curls were visible.

In a heap a few feet away, Isaac was-

Yeah…Isaac was _crying_. He was actually. Fucking. _Crying_.

Allison was crouched worriedly beside him, rubbing his back soothingly and muttering soft words. Her worried eyes were darting between him and Scott, who was- thank God- beginning to rise steadily to his feet a few yards away.

Derek proudly watched as Scott successfully stood, straightening his back with determination. At least ONE member of his back was making a good first impres-

With only a sudden intake of breath as warning, Scott vomitted.

"Oooh-! That one's mine!" Peter stated gleefully to the rest of the pack. Louder, he called out, "That a boy, Scott! Get it all out of your system-!"

Even Derek's wolf was silent from mortification as Scott dropped back to his knees, then proceeded to curl into a ball.

"They…they seem-" started an elderly alpha Derek recognized vaguely as his Uncle Erin (Hale-Harris, actually a distant cousin, like many of the rest). "I-I'm sure they're a _valuable_ addition to our pack, Derek." The others were quick to nod their agreement, eyes never leaving the scattered betas' forms. Derek cringed at their kindness.

"Well, damn-!" A loud voice bellowed from the back. The mountainous form of Uncle Terry (of the Hale-Prior branch) made his way forward, the others parting quickly to clear his path. Derek felt a sudden rush of relief at the sound of the familiar voice and sight of his uncle's toothy grin. Considered the light-hearted 'rebel' of the Hale pack, Uncle Terry had always been one of the few pack members that Derek felt comfortable around. The bear of of a werewolf (six foot eleven inches of pure muscle) engulfed Derek into a hug that nearly lifted him from the ground as he continued in a jovial voice, "Haha! I remember my first flight-! Tried to tear the door off the hinges three minutes after take-off! Your Auntie laid me out cold for three hours-! I woke up with the cold shakes in a puddle of my own piss-"

"For God's _sake_, Terry-!" Another werewolf, one Derek only vaguely recognized moved forward, trying to pry the men apart. "You're gonna scare him off again!" The man grunted from the effort of shoving at the bulky man uselessly.

"Aw, go on with all that!" Terry returned with a snort, "Derek's not running anywhere 'cept after his cute little mate- ain't that right son?!" He put Derek down at last, beaming at him.

Derek felt the eyes of the other alphas, and Peter, on him as everyone watched him expectantly. He felt his heart rate increase and knew they all could hear it. He didn't have to look to know the betas behind him were listening intently to the exchange, despite their rolling stomachs. His initial anger had deterred them from asking him too many questions before they left Beacon Hills, and the long flight had successfully extended his time to come up with a solid defense. Now, Terry had practically set Derek up to either confirm or deny everyone's suspicions.

Forcing his heart to steady, Derek carefully hedged around the truth, putting as much annoyance into his voice as he could. "Stiles is NOT my mate."

True enough. Derek had made sure that none of the usual mating rituals had been happened. His wolf had almost managed a few on it's own during some of the more intense full-moon-blackouts, including dragging the gift of a dead deer onto Stiles' front porch, but Derek had always been able to catch the little slip-ups in time.

So, it wasn't a _lie._

_Technically._

There were _rules_ for mates. _Procedures_ that he had specifically NOT followed.

His heart didn't skip at the statement…

_…but, his wolf growled lowly at the words, nonetheless._

Around him, the rest of the alphas watched him with sharp eyes. He kept his face stoic, knowing that his denial was the only thing that would save Stiles from participating in the Hunt in just a few hours. He had to make it real. Had to convince them all that this was a mistake.

"Hmm. Well," Peter began, sending Derek a coy grin, "If that's the case, then I appear to have made an embarrassing mistake. _My bad_."

Every person present turned to stare incredulously at Peter.

He shrugged, blinking innocently.

Derek couldn't contain his frustration. "So? Where is he-?! Bring Stiles here so we can go back to California!"

He knew the second the words left his mouth that something was wrong. The alphas- as one- released a collective breath, turning their eyes to the ground to study the asphalt.

Derek turned, eyes scanning the group, panic growing by the second. His wolf huffed restlessly.

"Yes…_about that_…" Peter began, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "Funny story. As you've already noticed, Stiles made quite an, uh, '_impression'_ with Alpha Mischa of the Durst Pa-"

The mere mention of Mischa's name brought back all the fury of having found his and Stile's intermingled scents earlier that morning. Derek's wolf took the reins, double-fisting Peter's shirt, fangs inches from his uncle's throat before anyone could even move. His voice was a low growl, **"Where. Is. STILES?**"

Peter continued smiling, but his body gave a tell-tale tremble under Derek's grip. His beta wolf knew better than to antagonize an alpha. Regardless, his reply was teasing, "Really, Derek, why so upset? Even someone like Stiles deserves a chance at finding that special werewo-EARAGH!" His voice was briefly cut-off by Derek's clawed-hand suddenly grasping his throat hard enough to crush vocal chords.

"Derek-!" Someone was tugging at his arms, but all Derek could see was red. His wolf was at the forefront, driving Derek's every movement. He could feel his claws extending; the buzz under his skin as cells fought to rearrange themselves into a shape more inclined to snap bones with it's teeth. Their was a heady wave of satisfaction as Peter's watery eyes bulged with genuine fear.

"DEREK-!"

A huge pair of arms enclosed around him, yanking him back at last and holding his hands at his side. Derek fought to free himself, teeth snapping furiously with the urge to sink into his Uncle's pale skin.

His heart was thundering in his ears as Peter was pulled by several pack leaders to a safe distance away. He watched through the haze as his uncle- ever quick to recover his bearing- shot Derek a subtle grin and wink that no one else caught.

Peter was going to die. **Soon**.

As the bloodlust slowly cleared from his mind, Derek realized that Terry was speaking to him. In fact, it was Terry who was single-handedly holding Derek in vise-like hug from behind, preventing him from doing anything but kicking his legs uselessly. Derek briefly wondered when that had happened, but was distracted by hearing Stiles' name.

"…that Stiles is real pistol, and that's for sure! Liked him as soon as I saw him! Shot outta that van like a wine cork- course he didn't get too far, but- hey! Kid's got spirit, I'll sure give'm that! Can see why you like him so much!"

Derek was finally able to start processing the rambling conversation enough to manage a '_Huh_-?'

"Stiles, son! Seems like a great kid! Bet he's tons of fun to have in the pack, that one!" Derek couldn't see Terry's face, but he didn't need to see him to know he was smiling brightly. The other alphas were nodding in polite agreement, faces strained as they eyed Derek warily.

One alpha (another vaguely familiar face- _fuck, he sucked at this_) was speaking to Derek, face grim and determined, "If you don't want Stiles to join Mischa's pack, then we'll certainly help out. You can count on us to run with you at the Hunt tonight-" All the alphas were listening now, nodding seriously as the man continued speaking, "All this 'mate' confusion aside," the man shot Peter a scowl, "That boy was Hale pack first, and we'll put up a good fight make sure he stays that way come morning." There was a growled chorus of agreement from the rest of the pack.

Derek was abruptly released by Terry, sucking in air as his sore muscles relaxed. His wolf had calmed down enough to retreat back into his subconscious. A heavy-handed slap on his back almost had Derek pitching forward onto the pavement.

Terry's voice added robustly, "Yep! I'm sure Stiles'll be one of the first ones across the Hale Border tonight! The Nemeton'll make sure he gets safely back to his true pack!"

The sense of unease that had been growing in Derek as each of the alphas had spoken grew into full-fledged dread. Weakly, Derek repeated the question a final time.

"Where is Stiles…?"

The faces of the group dropped guiltily again, mouths drawing tight as no one spoke.

It was Peter's cheerful voice that finally cut through the silence.

"Oh, we sent him to the Nemeton right before we came here. He's…" Peter checked his watch as he spoke, "probably already arrived by now. _Whoops_." He shrugged with an unapologetic grin.

Derek lunged for his uncle's throat-_again_.

-^o^-

"This is the weirdest shit I have EVER seen." Erica muttered, shaking her blonde head before adding, "And I mean- that's really saying something!"

The other teens nodded mutely as they all stared wide-eyed out the window of the quaint little coffee shop they were seated in.

Shortly after they arrived at the small airport, the group had been quickly shuffled into multiple vans by the strangers who had accompanied Peter.

_Alphas._

_They were ALL alphas._

_Six females and nine males._

_And the REAL confusing part-?_

_They ALL smelled like pack._

_Not necessarily the same scent that the betas themselves wore, but definitely similar at its core. It was unmistakeable. And beyond confusing to the beta's inner wolves._

_'Which means it fit in perfectly with their current situation_', Scott thought as he tried to make sense of everything.

Everything had moved fast since the call to Peter that morning. Derek had been useless. Not that he was sociable at the best of times, but as soon as Peter had hung up, it was as if Derek's wolf had taken over. It was all the small group of betas could do to get grunts from the furious alpha, let alone actual answers and explanations. They had jumped into their vehicles in a rush to follow behind Derek's camaro as he made a straight shot to the airport, eyes glowing a steady red.

Which was bad. _So freakin' bad_.

Scott had never seen Derek so out of control- and in public! If the cops had caught their little parade of cars speeding to the airport, who knows what could've happened?

Scott seriously doubted Derek would have stopped for the police. Or maybe, just long enough to shred their throats…

Scott had nearly lost control of his own wolf in the passenger seat of Allison's car, nerves on edge from the moment he had caught Stiles fading scent of fear at the school, and found their two phones lying on the ground nearby.

Then of course, they had flown. Which was just a nightmare for everyone except Allison, who had managed a brief nap after it was clear no one was capable of holding a conversation while they were airborne.

Now, their group was seated in an adorable little coffee shop on the corner of a picturesque town square watching as people passed by the windows.

Scott would have been calmed by the normalcy of the scene, if not for the fact that the entire town was engulfed in the overpowering scent of not only werewolves, but tons of other unplaceable smells, all mingling together.

"So…you're sure? I mean," Allison's voice was pitched low, which probably did nothing to prevent them from being overheard by the other patrons. "Maybe there's something, like magic, messing with your senses. They can't ALL be werewolves…right?"

"No," Isaac mumbled, blue eyes huge and incredulous, "I'm pretty sure that one is a druid or witch or…_something_."

They all looked, just in time to see a middle aged woman standing beside a minivan as a flock of about fifteen black crows flapped their wings wildly, dropping several shopping bags into the woman's open hatchback SUV. As soon as the goods were deposited, the woman flicked her wrist and the flock dispersed into the bright blue afternoon sky.

The group turned slowly back to their coffees, all taking a thoughtful swig of their drinks as one.

"Peter said…" Erica began, "He said something like '_werewolf capitol'_, right?" Her eyes were scrunched in concentration. "Is that a thing? Like, are we really in some sort of supernatural city?"

Down the street, there was a peel of tires. The group's eyes lifted again to see an irate driver blow his car horn at a jaywalking pedestrian. The pedestrian wolfed out partially, eyes blazing blue and wide jaws dropping to shape an annoyed howl that rattled the windows. The busy crowd outside barley spared a glance in the direction of the disruption.

The group returned their attention to their coffees. They took another large drink, as one.

"I've never seen Derek that pissed before," Issac finally mumbled.

They all nodded, frowning with concern. Scott let his eyes drift back to the large building down the street. Derek, Peter and the alphas had disappeared inside as soon as the vans had dropped them all off. Scott and the others had made a move to follow them in, but one of the alphas had stopped them at the top of the stairs. Scott had growled lowly at the woman (which had felt…weird since she smelled like pack and safety), but then Derek's voice had called from inside, "_Stay out there. I'll be out soon._" It had been enough to get Scott to back down from the grinning female wolf. She had chuckled '_cutie_' and turned to follow the other weres inside.

Scott had scowled after her, ears burning red.

He was still fuming, even now, almost thirty minutes later as they sat at the small table overlooking the street.

"Why Stiles?" Allison asked thoughtfully, interrupting his thoughts. "I mean, if Peter's really behind this, then why would he take Stiles? Doesn't it seem strange that he didn't use one of you guys instead?"

She searched the faces of the others. Boyd and Erica shrugged, but Issac's brow furrowed. "He said at the airport that he had Stiles taken because he thought Derek, like…I don't know, had a _crush…on…him…?_" Isaac barely managed to get the words out, they sounded so absurd. Erica was snickering uncontrollably beside him. The others grimaced at the idea.

Except Boyd.

And it was Boyd who finally spoke softly in the silence following Isaac's words. "Derek hides his scent whenever Stiles is around.…"

There was more silence. Because…well, _yeah. He did_.

"Yeah, but that- that doesn't mean…" Erica began, mouth turned to a pout as her eyes darted from face to face, as if expecting someone to help her finish the statement. "It doesn't mean he's like, hiding," she cringed, "_horny scents_ or anything! Maybe he's just covering the smell of rage and annoyance. That's what I always figured."

"Because that's what it _was_!" Scott suddenly snapped, "Come on- it's _Derek and Stiles!_ I seriously have had to referee those two from verbally AND physically attacking each other for the last four years! No way Derek …_ugh-!_" He stopped, frustrated.

"And I don't think Stiles is into Derek all that much, either." Erica added, tapping her chin thoughtfully with a manicured nail. "I mean, the dude's the easiest read ever- even if you couldn't sniff out his emotions or hear his heartbeat. Yeah, he's horny around around Derek, but that's pretty much the same level of horniness he has 24/7. Guy's like a sexually frustrated machine. The only time he actually gets super-turned on is around hot chicks like Lydia…and me, _of course_." She grinned and shrugged.

"Why are we still having this conversation?" Scott groaned. "Stiles is NOT into Derek and Derek is NOT into Stiles. Peter was just being his normal dick-self and causing problems. It's what he does! He wanted Derek to come here for this-this hunt thing, so he told those other werewolves a lie to get them to take Stiles."

"But how did Peter know Derek would actually show?" Allison rationalized. "I mean, yeah, Derek and Stiles are always butting heads, so how come Peter took the risk of kidnapping Stiles instead of one of you betas? Am I the only one actually surprised that Derek actually came here to get Stiles back?"

The group was silent, thinking.

"Maybe he was playing on Derek's pride or something? Like, 'you have a helpless human that you can't even protect in your own territory'…?" Scott's growl had Isaac stuttering nervously, but he pressed on, "Just, seriously, think about it. If any one of us had been taken, we'd at least know that that person wasn't completely defenseless against other werewolves. But, Stiles? He's human, and- uh, no offense, Scott- but he's our weakest pack member."

Erica snickered, "Stile's ISN'T a pack member-"

Scott was suddenly in her personal space, a low snarl rumbling from his throat. "Stiles IS a part of our pack!"

Erica flinched visibly under Scott's sudden anger, shifting discreetly closer to Boyd, who spoke gently despite his intimidating frame. "What Erica means is, yeah, WE consider Stiles pack, but he's still a human. And, since he's connected to our pack and to Derek, that makes him the most vulnerable target."

Scott settled stiffly back into his seat by Allison. She reached over to pat his arm. "None of that matters now. Stiles in trouble and we need to be figuring out how to help rescue him from this hunt thing they mentioned." They all glanced towards the huge gray building again.

"Did you come up with an excuse to give his dad?" Isaac asked to change the subject, turning to Scott.

"Yeah," Scott bit out, holding out Stiles' phone alongside his own. It had been in a small pile in the grass by the school, along with his keys and Scott's phone. "I sent the Sheriff a text from Stiles' phone saying we were all taking a surprise trip to look into a local college. He was upset cuz it's a school day, but I think he bought it. My mom is in on it, too, in case he check's with her. Not that she's thrilled about us traveling half-way across the country with no notice..."

Scott's hand tightened around Stiles' cell phone, and he suddenly burst out, "I should have noticed when they took my phone! If they hadn't used my cellphone to trick Stiles, then-!"

"Don't," Allison soothed, "They would've just found another way. It's not your fault, Scott."

Scott leaned against her with a soft whine, breathing in the smell of her hair. Even hearing her say it didn't make him feel any less awful about everything. It WAS his fault that his best friend had been taken. He had read the texts. He knew that Stiles had gone to the school thinking he was helping Scott.

"It doesn't matter HOW they managed to get Stiles. What we should be worried about is how to get the idiot BACK before he get's himself killed or something." Erica stated, rolling her eyes.

"Well," Isaac began, face scrunched up in thought. "Derek's freaking out pretty bad, but did you notice no one else is acting like it's the end of the world? I mean, how do we even know Stiles is actually in any danger?"

"Uh, because they called it a '_hunt_', Isaac," Scott supplied, scowling more because of his own self-loathing than Isaac's words, "And it involves werewolves, who, we all know from experience don't have the very best control over their instincts, especially at this time of the month."

Isaac winced, nodding in concession. The group didn't need to check the moon's phase to know it was close to full. In just less than an hour the sun would dip and set, and the moon's pull would be inescapable.

And Stiles was out there, somewhere, at the… _nematode_… or whatever Peter had called it. Scott frowned, feeling helpless.

Allison's hand slipped around his where they were clenched in his lap. "Stiles will be okay. He's tough and smart.

"Yeah," Erica chimed in, "It's not like he's a newbie with supernatural shit. He's probably tied up somewhere safe, annoying the fuck out of his captors with questions about werewolf politics and all that crap. Honestly- _they're_ probably suffering way more than he is right now."

Scott felt a small grin tug at his mouth, "Yeah, he's never been good at staying quiet for long…"

Isaac spoke up next. "What do you think a nemeton-"

A furious howl ripped through the air, sending the hairs on everyone's neck standing up straight.

It was Derek.

The group was barreling out of the coffee shop in moments, racing for the large municipal building down the street that Derek, Peter and the others had disappeared into.

People were flooding out of the ornate double-doors at the front as loud crashes and the obvious signs of a fight could be heard inside. Derek's muffled grunts and growls were distinguishable in the chaos.

Just as the betas and Allison managed to shove through the alarmed bodies and up the short stairs, several of the alphas from the airport appeared, grabbing onto their struggling bodies tightly and preventing them from rushing inside to join the fight.

"Whoa-whoa! Easy now, pups!" Shouted a huge man with a deep southern accent. He was grinning cheerfully as he lifted Isaac full-bodily off the ground. Isaac and the other betas had wolfed out, despite the many onlookers who were queuing around the building to see what the noise was about.

Another alpha was hurrying out of the building a few feet away, his tired eyes taking in the thrashing betas as they bit and clawed to break free of their captors. Even Allison was making and effort to jab her heel into any soft spot she could reach on the man who was attempting to juggle her from right to left as he danced his feet away from her sharp shoes.

"Well…" The gray haired man mumbled, "This is all going about as well as could be expected." The sound of shattering glass- lots of shattering glass, like, maybe a whole floor to ceiling window Scott thought- came from behind him. The man just shook his head, turning his attention to the Beacon Hills group. "Please, settle yourselves, pups. Alpha Derek is just…" he paused as a loud roar of pain ripped through the air from further down the hall, "He's…working through some _frustration_. Nothing to be concerned about." The older man finished lamely.

A booming voice echoed from inside, "**That's quite enough! Mischa-! Derek-!**"

The noises stopped abruptly.

The betas finally began to calm, ears turned towards the interior of the building, searching for some sign that Derek was safe. All they could make out was the dull hum of unintelligible voices, despite their werewolf hearing. Scott felt his captor carefully ease his grip around him. By this time, almost everyone who had been around the square was clustered close to the entrance in a huge crowd, filling the silence with hushed whispers.

Not a minute later, a man appeared at the doors, stomping out, face drawn. He had the unmistakeable scratches from claws being raked down his flushed face and his clothing was crumpled and shredded in places.

He didn't make eye contact as he passed by the other weres, who stepped out of his way with small bows.

His eyes glanced briefly over the Beacon Hills group before returning to look straight ahead and pass by them. Several people detached from the crowd, drawing up to join and flank the young man.

It took only a second for the stranger's scent to waft towards Scott.

It was the same scent that had been mingled with Stiles' at the school.

Scott's wolf reacted instantly, crossing the few yards that separated them and lunging at the man. The other betas moved to attack, as well, shrugging off the alphas around them.

But, within a split second, before Scott and the others could get close enough to touch the alpha wolf, the other alphas were suddenly on them again.

This time, however, their was no underlying humor or gentleness in their movements. Several gasps and hisses were heard from the crowd, and the people- werewolves- who were at the new alpha wolf's side spun around, eyes flashing with fury.

"Enough!" Shouted the older man as he moved surprisingly fast from his spot at the top of the stairs. The other wolves holding the Beacon Hills group were half-dragging, half-carrying the young betas away from the now growling wolves standing beside Stiles' attacker.

Scott found his voice, shouting through the arms of two alphas, "**You-! What have you done with Stiles?! Where did you take my friend, you bastard-?!**"

It was as if time stopped.

Even Scott flinched at the suddenly thick air of danger that bled into the square. Throughout the audience, every face appeared to be a mask of wide-eyed terror and gaping jaws. They looked from Scott, who was panting from exertion and now growing panic, to the lead alpha, who turned stiffly around to drop the full weight of his red-eyed disapproval on the beta.

"A-Alpha Mischa," the older man that smelled of Hale pack spoke tightly, voice respectful as he positioned himself between the two, "I beg your forgiveness. These pups are…er, they have not been around other werewolves-"

"I am aware of their…lack of training," The younger man's voice was a low rasp, his eyes boring into Scott's. He seemed to think hard, brow furrowing for several seconds as he turned his gaze towards the other betas, taking in their aggressive stances. Even their eyes held a level of defiance, despite the fact that everyone within thirty feet had no doubt caught the heavy scent of fear that rolled off of the small group.

The alpha, 'Mischa', undoubtedly noticed it, his nose crinkling once as he seemed to take it in. After another moment, he made a small gesture and the handful of weres around him immediately relaxed. It seemed like the entire crowd sighed in relief at the movement. Scott had the sudden impression that he had very narrowly avoided a near-death experience.

The Alpha spoke again, this time directly to Scott. "You're…Stiles' friend…?" Scott didn't miss the man's subtle nose twitch, sniffing, as if he were catching a hint of Stiles' scent on Scott's clothing.

Scott blinked at the question, barely managing to nod stiffly.

The intimidating alpha frowned deeper, eyes boring into Scott's as he stated, "I'll forgive your insolence this once…. Do not test my patience further." His words were clipped, but laced with something like hesitance. The man's red gaze shifted past Scott, his face drawing grim again. Scott didn't need to turn to know Derek had appeared at the entrance to building at the top of the stairs.

The man moved to turn and leave, but drew up short. He half-turned, meeting Scott's eye just quickly enough to add, "I'm sure… any friend of Stiles is worthy of my friendship as well." His eyes moved towards Derek once more, briefly. And with that final, gruff statement, he departed with quick strides, followed closely by his group.

Scott twisted his head around to gape at Derek, practically dripping the sharp notes of terror as he searched for some sign from Derek- any hint that all of this was somehow…normal werewolf interaction.

Derek didn't meet Scott's eye. He kept his burning red glare on Mischa's departing figure. There was blood trailing a thin line from the corner of Derek's mouth. More blood stained his shredded shirt.

The remaining crowd watched the group go as well, apparently stunned. Several turned with interest from Derek's haggard form and back to Mischa's.

As soon as the alpha's small group turned around the corner of the block and out of sight, Derek spun around and stepped back into the shadowed entrance of the building without a word.

The crowd surrounding abruptly burst into excited chatter.

"What _THE FUCK_ is going on…?" Erica exclaimed, looking more wide eyed and confused than angry.

Scott could only shrug helplessly.

...-^o^-...


	5. Chapter 5

I can't get around this writer's block...FML.

Sorry for another delay folks. I've edited this chapter, like, a million times and I still can't seem to get it right. Where is my fucking muse?! That bitch is on an extended vacation or something... *sobs* I'm reading tons of writing books to try and get back on track, but please bear with me while I keep at it. As soon as I figure out what's 'off' about my current style, I'll fix it all up and wrap it in a pretty bow for you all! (Read as: this chapter will be edited heavily to be less suck-y soon).

But, hey! The storyline is there, so I'm gonna post it. Maybe I just need to get over this hump and into the good stuff...?

Thank you for your continued patience and support.

...-^o^-...

When the back doors to the van finally opened, Stiles had already made the decision to hold off on grand acts of bravery. Based off past experiences, the chances of dashing to freedom were slim. Instead, he positioned himself far from the doors, prepared to fend off anyone who tried to drag him out. Not that that would work either, but his dignity had taken enough blows today…

And, really, it was a solid plan, for the whole one minute it lasted.

As soon as the doors opened, the warm light of late afternoon shone in, forcing Stiles to blink fitfully. A cheerful female voice called in, "Alright, come on out, honey!"

Stiles barked a laugh. Yeah, right! Oh, and also, could you be so kind as to slip this noose around your neck, while you're at it?

Fuck that.

Stiles remained silent and still, eyes trained on the open doors. His senses were all firing at 100%. His ears picked up on several voices nearby, sounds of other vehicles driving and braking, and somewhere, apparently further away, the dull hum of a large crowd-

-which, okay, weird...

It sounded like an…an amphitheater? The van was almost vibrating from the dull hum of voices and people nearby.

Which didn't make much sense-like, at all. He could see just outside the van. It was green, forrest-y. Not Beacon Hills-style forrest-y. More like, 'Deliverance', 'Wrong Turn', 'Wolf Creek'-style forrest-y.

The strange presence of a huge crowd PLUS the isolation of 'middle of nowhere' forest was actually MORE terrifying than an abandoned warehouse or dungeon-esque basement, or any of the other hundred horrors that Stiles had been mentally preparing for.

His body pressed even tighter up against the walls of the van. Nope. The creepy interior of the van was actually starting grow on Stiles. Add in some curtains, maybe a rug, and yeah, he could totally make this work long-term...

There were some muffled voices speaking, then, "Alright, sweetie," the mysterious-and freakishly nice- voice called again, "Last chance. Come on out, or I'll have to send my friends to come in and get you." Geez, this lady needed to get a clue. She was doing this ALL wrong...

Stiles croaked out a semi-confident snort that he prayed sounded brave. Because, yeah. #badass.

Before he could react, two large forms suddenly dove in, bulky forms rocking the van as they grabbed ahold of him. They pulled him out into the sunlight, his arms and legs thrashing uselessly in their strong grips. He wiggled, twisted, yanked and jerked between the two men, only managing to do a spot-on impression of taffy being made. Dignity, thou name art not Stiles.

After a few moments, he gave up, hanging limply between the two captors, and sending them his most holier-than-thou scowl. "Well," he finally snapped, "If the two of you don't mind, I'd like to be reacquainted with solid ground sometime today." #likeaboss

They sat him down patiently, but kept their firm grips on his biceps. The fact that both of the huge men's hands wrapped easily around Stiles puny-in-comparison muscle only horrified him a little.

"Welcome to The Hunt!" Stiles turned toward the overly-perky voice that had been trying to coax him from the van. A short, plump woman stood beaming cheerfully at him with her stubby arms held up theatrically. The smile and voice were so sincere that Stiles was momentarily taken aback. "It is SO wonderful to have you joining us this evening! Why-I hear that it's thanks to you that our numbers are shooting these last few hours! Mag-ni-fi-cent!" The woman giggled giddily, which was kind of alarming to hear from a plus forty year old soccer mom/ruthless kidnapper. Someone really needed to give this lady a script to follow.

The woman started waddling in the direction of an enormous crumbling stone wall that seemed to stretch forever in both directions, curving out of sight. Stiles spotted an arch and barely visible set of doors several yards away. The guards at both sides of Stiles began to pull him along to follow.

He stared dumbly at the round little woman who was STILL chattering excitedly. She looked normal enough. At least, her eyes hadn't flashed and there were no obvious signs of lupine-like qualities. The guards, dressed (barely) in a pair of uber-tight dark pants, hadn't shown any indications that they were werewolves either, but then, Stiles wasn't the best at catching the warning signs until he was physically fleeing for his life, so there was that….

"And Derek Hale, too? Oh, yes! What a fun night this is sure to be! My friend, Wanda, she said he wasn't going to show up again this year, but I told her, I said, 'Wanda, dear, he's just shy and, you know, after that horrible fire-" The woman continued as they neared the ominous-looking door.

"Let go of me you furry freaks! STOP-!"

A ruckus behind them had Stiles digging his feet in and turning-

"Watch her teeth, Avery!"

"Shit-get ahold of her leg-!"

"Oh-!" The squat woman leading Stiles and his guards flapped her arms with a light chuckle, "Another conscientious objector, hmm! What fun!" She pattered around Stiles, her tiny feet moving quickly towards the commotion.

Stiles craned his neck around to catch a glimpse of the scene unfolding behind them.

Beyond the van he had arrived in, another van was idling. Several people stood awkwardly nearby, eyes wide as three large men (more guards, based off their hulk-ish sizes) struggled clumsily to catch the swinging limbs of a thin young woman.

It was…actually impressive. They had only managed to keep a hold on one of her arms. And she seemed pretty-damn-determined to keep them from grabbing any more limbs. Stiles watched as the girl bent and twisted away from their grips, arms and legs kicking out with blurring speed to land several sharp hits on the guards. It was about as effective as kitten batting at bears, but hey, A+ for effort.

"Oh, dearie, now- that's not very nice!" The cheerful woman danced around the group, "Why don't you just be good little lady and calm on down now-?"

Stiles felt his guards slacken their grip, temporarily distracted. He took the opening.

Dropping suddenly to a crouch, his arms tugged free of the men's hands. Acting fast, he swung his now-free arms hard behind the kneecaps of their legs. They fell like sacks of potatoes.

Before they even hit the ground, Stile was sprinting towards the the girl and her guards. Dropping his shoulder low, he took the closest one out at his hip, barreling him into another guard and sending both startled men toppling over. Kicking at the third guard's groin, he made a grab for the girl's arm and tugged. His foot made solid contact and Stiles suddenly found himself with an armful of terrified female. Before his brain could catch up with Stiles' actions, he was hauling their asses for the distant tree line and yelling for the three other (probaby-)humans to run.

They just stared blankly at him and didn't move to follow. Okaaayyy-so they didn't want to be rescued. What-ev...

Behind him, he could hear the high-pitched squawking of the woman and shouts of the guards.

And growls.

Because why the fuck WOULDN'T they be werewolves, too-!? It was that kind of day.

"Hey! Hey-let me down-I can run!" Stiles gave the girl hanging from his neck a brief look of disbelief. She seemed pretty sure of herself, so fuck it. Stiles tossed her out of his arms. To his surprise- and relief- she caught her feet with barely a mis-step, matching his pace immediately before-

"HOLY SHIT- wait for me-!" Stiles yelled as the girl bounded in front of him like a gazelle.

The girl turned her head just long enough to focus on something behind Stiles before shrieking, "WHOAH- RUN FASTER!" The last was screamed at Stiles as she spun back around and somehow found the motivation to speed up MORE.

Stiles didn't even bother to look at what she's seen behind him, his mind more than capable of imagining the shifted forms and glowing eyes. That was enough to encourage Stiles to dig deep into his reserves and sprint harder.

They hit the treeline side by side at full speed which, Stiles realized belatedly, was a mistake. Such a huge mistake.

Because this was definitely NOT Beacon Hills Preserve…

No, this was an entirely different type of forest. The kind with high grass, and fallen tree limbs, ditches and-

"EAHK-!" The girl squawked out as she pitched forward face-first and out of sight.

Before Stiles could even register what had happened, his feet caught on *nothing* and he flew forward right behind her.

Instead of an immediate impact with the ground or a rock or something, Stiles seemed to fall for several heartbeats before rolling roughly downhill and finally stomping with a hard -THWACK!- against a…a boulder?

Yeah. Just a big-ass rock. At the bottom of a- he turned his wincing gaze back to where he came from- yep, a fifteen foot cliff. Because that's nature. A cold-hearted bitch just full of surprises.

Beside him, the girl moaned pathetically, "Oww…Who put that there?"

Stiles was about to answer, but his voice caught in his throat at the sight of several partially wolfed-out forms appearing at the top of the mini-cliff. The girl must have noticed them too, because she suddenly scrambled to get back to her feet. Stiles hand shot out without turning his eyes away, patting her arm and warning lowly, "Uh...probably not a good idea…"

Two of the werewolves jumped easily from their spot above and landed with practically no expended effort ten feet away from the two.

The girl made a strangled noise, like a whimper in the back of her throat.

"Yep," Stiles concurred. "We're screwed."

"OH-oh my goodness!" The tiny woman suddenly appeared, red-faced and huffing deeply at the top of the drop-off, "OH-! Sweeties, are-are you both okay!? Oh, swan in a ditch-! Harry-" she smacked the arm of the creature-of-untimely-death beside her as if swatting at a fly, "Harry, go make sure poor dears aren't hurt! Oh, my heart-!"

Stiles just kind of… turned his brain 'off' at that point. Because being chased by werewolves? Yeah, no problems there. Must be a day of the week ending in 'Y'.

But, watching five enormous beasts shuffling in embarrassment as a woman barely a third their size chastised them with pseudo-swearing? Yeah… cue the Twilight Zone music.

Sometime about halfway back through the trees, presumably toward the stone wall and nightmarish door of Doom, the girl spoke.

"So, uh, thanks, for, um, saving me, sort of?"

Stiles turned to look at the girl. They were both slung over the shoulders of separate guards, dangling a few feet away from each other. She smiled at him weakly, her almond eyes wide and sympathetic.

"Yeah. I mean- no problem. Uh, werewolves, you know? Can't live with them…can't outrun them…" Stiles mumbled.

"Yeah. Yeah, turns out." She sighed, then extended a slender hand toward him. "My name's Kira. Kira Yukimura."

Stiles lifted his swinging arm up to shake her hand. "Stiles Stilinski. Human?" He asked the last part in a conversational tone, as if asking if she liked cream in her coffee. In front of him he heard the short woman chirp 'So nice to make new friends!' he rolled his eyes, and turned back to Kira.

Her brown eyes were wide, as if she'd been caught, before mumbling, "Uh…fox spirit…? I guess?"

"You guess?"

"Um, my mom mentioned something about it… you know, right before wishing me good luck finding a husband and waving as they shut the van doors."

Stiles gawked, wiggling to against his captor's back to get a better look at her. "Your MOTHER let them take you!?"

Kira winced, but nodded. "What about you?"

"Human," Stiles responded without missing a beat. "Human and kidnapped in the dead of night," in a louder voice, pointed toward the werewolves and the woman leading them, "And my SHERIFF dad is probably already mobilizing the entire California Law Enforcement collective to find me so…yeah…" He finished weakly, feeling disgruntled when none of the group seemed to bat an eye at the comment.

He sighed somberly, turning his gaze back to Kira, who smiled at him encouragingly.

They hung off of the back of their captors in friendly-but-kind-of-terrified-silence after that.

It wasn't until they were back to the vans before Stiles' brain picked up with the previous conversation and he asked incredulously, "Wait-! Did you say 'finding a husband'-?!"

-^o^-

"Derek!"

Derek sighed, eyes closing, before turning to find Scott stomping towards him. "You need to start answering questions. Now." Scott gave him his fiercest scowl, which looked like a puppy about to attack an intruding mailman's pant leg. Behind him, the others were gathering, faces more hesitant.

The crowd that had gathered immediately following the fight between him and Mischa Durst had mostly dissipated to return to shopping and preparing for the upcoming festivities. The Hale Alphas had finally left, after not-so-subtly getting Derek's promise that he would join them shortly at the Hale border for the opening ceremony. The Beacon Hills group were the last to still linger around the front of the municiple building.

Irritated, Derek grumbled, "We need to get to to the Hale Estate. The Hunt is starting soon." He moved to turn away.

"Derek-!" Scott grabbed his arm.

Derek settled Scott with a glare. There were still people around, listening. He glanced around and froze at the sight of two sets of glowing eyes watching them.

Board Members. They were gathered around a non-descript van, one of the ones used to transport participants to the Nemeton at the center of the pack territories.

They watched the small group now with looks of disapproval, clearly expecting Derek to put his betas in their places. He shrugged the beta's hand off.

"Scott," Derek began carefully, turning his eyes to meet the angry beta's, "I understand you're confused, but listen carefully. This is a place where rank and respect are adhered to strictly. Be careful." He held Scott's eyes, flashing his own briefly to emphasize how serious he was.

Scott blinked, apparently understanding. His eyes darted to the Board Members' then quickly away. Derek almost sighed with relief. Scott wasn't always the quickest to catch on to situations, especially when he was in 'righteous protector' mode. "Okay…uh, alpha…?" He seemed unsure if that was the right title, but Derek nodded shortly so he continued. "We're all worried, you know, about Stiles and- well, everything that's happening."

His face was pained, as if he wanted to demand answers, but also, very practically, didn't want to have his limbs ripped off by the silent figures standing by the van.

Derek could sympathize. Not that the Board Members would actually attack the beta for being out of line. Probably.

Taking a deep breath, Derek addressed the entire Beacon Hills group. There wasn't any way to really explain what was happening, at least, not without spending a few hours bringing the pups up to date on werewolf history and lore. The easiest approach would be honesty.

"We're at the High-Den, the werewolf capitol city of the United States. Specifically, we're in Dyer County, in Tennessee."

Erica cut in with a mumbled, "Our GPS's told us that…"

Derek flinched, but didn't turn to look at the Board Members, who were no doubt listening. He HAD to choose a snarky beta...

"This whole county is divided into representative sections for each of the major werewolf packs of the country. It's the center point for werewolf politics." The pack seemed to glance around, as if unimpressed by the small town atmosphere. "Don't be fooled by appearances," he warned, "this place is considered one of the most powerful locations in the supernatural world."

"Okay…" Scott nodded, "But, what does that have to do with Stiles?"

Derek grimaced. "You all overheard what Peter and the other Alphas were saying earlier? About the Hunt?" They nodded, faces rapt with attention, "The Hunt is," Derek struggled for the right way to describe the event, "it's like an annual event where all packs gather to run together under the full moon. For…various reasons."

At the last part, the group's faces all dropped, not impressed by the weak description.

"What do you mean 'various reasons'?" Scott asked, trying and failing at sounding annoyed. The young man's eyes shifted to the Board Members then back to Derek's.

"It's…complicated." Derek answered tightly. "The Hunt is…well, it's not really controlled by rules or guidelines. People participate for all kinds of reasons. Mostly to settle disputes or show the strength of their packs. There's a lot of fighting and posturing, but it's not really…conscious."

"Because of the wolves being in control for the full moon?" Allison asked.

"There's that," Derek nodded, "but, mostly it's because of the Nemeton."

"Yeah, that's what Peter mentioned," Isaac chimed in. "They took Stiles, uh…there. Or to 'it'?"

Derek almost growled at the reminder, but managed to keep his wolf under control. "Yeah. Stiles is at the Nemeton, with all the other Prey." The group's eyes all widened at the word 'Prey', but Derek was quick to continue, "It's just a title- for the runners that start at the Nemeton. The Nemeton is a... special tree in the center of the pack territories. The goal of all the Prey is to run towards the pack territory that they are, uh, seeking something from."

By looks on the teens' faces, he was only confusing them more. "Listen, it works like this-" He gestured towards the van, where the Board Members and several guards were waiting. "If someone wants something, say a big favor- like a bite for themselves or a sick human friend, they can challenge a pack for it. Basically, they announce to everyone what they want and why, the Board memebers authorize them to participate, then they go to the Nemeton to be 'Prey'. When the Hunt starts, they run for that pack's border and try to make it over the boundary. If they can get there before sunrise, then the pack has to 'honor' their request."

"What? Just like that? Anyone can get the bite?" Erica asked incredulously.

Derek rubbed his face and checked the time. It was late. The Hunt was going to start promptly at sundown, which was in about forty minutes.

And he had to be at the Hale border to run.

He shook his head, frustrated to be wasting time. "It's not that simple at all. The packs have runners called 'Hunters', that start from the pack border and head towards the center to…prevent the 'Prey' from reaching the territory, or to help them if they have allies in the pack that want them to succeed."

"So that's it, then? You're gonna help Stiles tonight by getting him out of the forest to safety?" Scott asked, face finally relaxing with understanding. "I'm going too, then!"

"Me too!" Chimed the others, including Allison.

Derek was already shaking his head, "It's not-! Listen- it's more complicated than that!" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Shit, he needed to try and spell this out in a way the group could understand. "Listen, there's more to it than just a bunch of people running through the woods in the dark! First, the Board controls who can participate." He nodded towards the Board Members who were still watching and presumably listening (which was beginning to piss Derek off because he knew they were getting a laugh out his pathetic attempt to explain the complexities of The Hunt). "The Board Members are like a council that upholds the werewolf laws. You have to get their approval to be in The Hunt. There are strict rules about who qualifies as 'Prey' and 'Hunters'." Derek frowned at Allison, "Actual hunters, like your family, are somethimes allowed to settle personal disputes during the Hunt, but they are always 'Prey'." He turned to Erica and Boyd and paused awkwardly, "And, uh…unmated couples…have a…different role."

"What?" Scott asked, confused. Erica's face flushed. Boyd's impassive face didn't change, his attention still on Derek.

Derek scrambled to find the right words, knowing that he was hedging dangerously close to the REAL reason Stiles was kidnapped and participating in the Hunt. "It's…the Hunt is…" He took a breath and tried again, "One of the other reasons that people participate in the Hunt is to…claim a mate."

There. Super-simple.

Or it should have been…

"Wait," Isaac started, frowning, "You mean people run around in the woods all night trying to get LAID!?"

The others' wide eyed turned expectantly to Derek.

One of the distant Board Members actually snorted.

This was hell.

"Like I said, it's all really complicated!" He glared at the group, trying to cow them into not asking anymore questions.

He should have known better than to try.

"So, you're saying that a bunch of horny werewolves AND humans are going to be running around the forest tonight? With Stiles!?" Scott's scent was suddenly riddled with alarm. "What if someone gets to Stiles before you!" Realization seemed to dawn and Scott's eyes widened to saucers. "Is that Mischa-dude going to try and-?!"

"We are NOT going to let that happen-!" Derek snarled abruptly, his wolf rising to the surface.

"How the hell can you be sure! If Stiles is wandering around the woods, then anyone could find him!" Scott's own wolf was suddenly snapping back at Derek.

"Scott-!" Derek bit back his anger, forcing his wolf down. "Half the Hale Pack is requesting permission to be Hunters tonight."

"And that's the best you can do!?" Scott was suddenly in Derek's face, eyes glowing with fury. "My best friend- my HUMAN best friend!- is about to run for his life through a forest full of werewolves who are looking for either a fight or- or SEX! And all you're gonna do is 'try' to get to him first!? This is all you're fault! You're the reason Stiles is in this mess!" Derek's own eyes flared back up, his wolf growling at Scott's accusation.

The two wolves were close to coming to blows, Erica and Isaac trying to wedge themselves between the two before blood got shed.

Because they were so distracted, it was only Allison who noticed Boyd slip away silently and walk towards the idling van further down the street.

She glanced nervously at Scott, who had Derek's shirt fisted in a clawed hand, then back at Boyd. Biting her lip, she followed quickly after him.

"I didn't want this! This was all Peter!" Derek practically howled, glaring into Scott's eyes.

"I don't give a shit if you wanted this or not! FIX IT! NOW!"

"I can't override the Board! Stiles was already cleared to participate!"

"Then fucking 'un-clear' him! It's not like he volunteered to do any of this!"

"That doesn't matter- the Board made their decision-!"

"The Board can kiss my-"

"Boyd-?!"

The two furious wolves turned as Erica suddenly released her restraining grip on Scott's arm and shouted again, "BOYD-!?"

They watched her spin in circles, eyes wide and searching for the boy.

"Hey- where's Allison…?" Isaac asked, also looking around.

"Wha-? Allison-!?" Scott released Derek taking several halting steps before stopping. "Allison!?"

Down the street, the plain white van was driving quickly down the road and out of sight.

"BOYD-!" Erica was visibly sniffing the air, feet stumbling forward as she got his scent. It only took few seconds for the group to connect the path of Boyd and Allison's scent to the direction of the disappearing van.

Erica's howl was piercing as she began to sprint down the road. Scott and Isaac rushed to follow. Derek stayed frozen in place, watching.

People along the bustling sidewalks and in their cars stared as Erica, Scott and Isaac barreled down the road, shifting into their much faster half-wolf forms.

But it was useless- even partially wolfed out and at full speed. The van continued speeding up, getting futher and further away.

Derek turned helplessly to the Board Members, whose ever-glowing eyes watched the betas' indifferently as they finally staggered to a stop.

The van was gone.

The Board Members slowly turned and met Derek's eye for several long moments, before moving calmly to enter the large stone court building.

Just as they were about to step inside, one of them called out, "The Hunt begins in half and hour, Alpha Hale. If you and your remaining betas intend to participate, then you should hurry to the Hale Border." She turned to enter, but then seemed to consider something. After a moment she returned her gaze to him. "Perhaps you should explain to them the Nemeton's role in the Hunt, as well."

Derek felt his stomach drop.

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

…-^o^-…

Stiles had expected for nothing good to happen when the guards carried him through the Door of Doom. He just hadn't expected this particular type of '_bad_'.

"Just take off your clothes, kid."

Stiles laughed with just a tinge of the hysteria he felt. "Not happening, _Harry_. Tell me where the hell they took Kira."

The guards rolled their eyes so enthusiastically Stiles half-expected for their pupils to never return. "She's _fine_, alright! She's with the other females getting prepared. Now for the _love of God_\- strip!"

"Nope. Nope nope nope. All the motherfucking nopes. You want to see _this _show, you gotta buy me dinner, at least."

Stiles had his arms crossed tightly in what he hoped was a intimidating stance as he glared at the guards. The rest of the…victims? Prisoners? Stiles wasn't actually sure what the other men would be considered, but they seemed a little too cooperative for his tastes. THEY were following orders _willingly_. Stockholm syndrome much?

"C'mon! You'll be offered new clothes," one of the guards begged as he rubbed the bridge of his nose irritably.

"Nah, s'cool man- I like these clothes. Emotionally attached, in fact. Don't know what I would ever do without them." As Stiles rambled, his hands tugged his ratty Captain America t-shirt down tightly in case they made a grab at it.

"You can't-!" The other guard began, before growling in frustration. "_Listen_, kid, you're getting out of those clothes one way or another!"

"Dude, just take you clothes off already. You're wasting all of our time." This came from one of the people who had been in Kira's van group earlier. The boy looked to be around Stiles' age, just…significantly more muscled and attractive. Like, geez, that _jawline_…. Of course HE had slipped out of his clothes with hardly any prompting.

_Frickin' Werewolf._ Stiles was positive. _Had_ to be. The arrogant look of annoyance was unmistakeable. Stiles theorized that it was built into the werewolf DNA. Every werewolf in Beacon Hills had looked at him exactly like that at one point or another. Some never seemed to stop. *coughJacksoncough*

"Like I keep telling Harry, Larry and Moe here," Stiles bit out, "Not. Gonna. Happen."

The other boy just raised his hand helplessly and turned away. Suddenly, before Stiles could dodge away, the guards pounced on him. There were several embarrassing moments of (very manly) squeeking and scuffling as Stiles tried to turn himself in liquid and ooze out of the guards' grasps.

It was…not successful.

But, to his surprise, rather than having his clothes torn from his body, he was instead manhandled back over Not-Harry #1's shoulder.

Stiles resisted the urge to fist-pump victoriously. _Always_ great not to be force stripped in front of an intimidating crowd of strangers, right? Clearly Stiles' tried-and-true skill of upfront refusal had been successful, yet again.

He realized how very wrong he was when the guards stepped hurriedly through _yet another_ door and the golden sunlight of late evening had him wincing painfully. The rest of the group followed sending VERY worrisome smirks at Stiles' as he struggled.

Creepy door #12 (or whatever) apparently led back outside. Just NOT back towards freedom and the vans. This time, as Stiles craned his neck over the guard's shoulder, he saw a picturesque little river barely twenty feet across bubbling cheerfully nearby.

Stiles briefly wondered if maybe he could escape by means of swimming downstream. But, his mind very helpfully supplied the memory of his many swim-day gym classes (aka those times he almost drowned and had to rescued by Scott's Aquaman-like pool skills). So, yeah, probably not the best option, but he wasn't exactly coming up with tons of possible escape routes at the moment….

His half-formed plan began to look a lot more realistic, and whole lot _less_ appealing, as the guard carrying him practically _skipped_ towards the bank of said river.

There were VERY gleeful grins on the guards' faces. And the faces of the not-prisoners.

Stiles felt a scream bubble up from his thoat and he began scrabbling to find a solid grip on the guard.

Suddenly, one of the guards grabbed a tight hold of Stiles' arms, and another grabbed his feet.

"_One_-"

They swung Stiles forward-

-then back.

"_Two_-"

Oh. Shit.

"NO-! Hey-NONONONO-!" Stiles shrieked as he made another arc through the air.

"_THREE-!_"

Stiles was released into the air, the feeling of weightlessness and terror paralysing every muscle in his body.

Then, he was abruptly sinking under shockingly frigid water. And it was…wrong. Horribly, terrifyingly, WRONG.

The sinking feeling never stopped. Instead it began to feel more as if he was being sucked heavily downward. Dragged deeper and deeper, like a sinkhole. Like thick, freezing quicksand.

Every pore on his body seemed to take in ice as the cold darkness wrapped tightly around him.

Seconds passed by, absolutely silent and slow as his numb body sunk into dark, cold oblivion.

He wondered if this was what death felt like.

He drifted, mind stuttering weakly as consciousness faded…

_…__along with the light…_

_…__and time…_

And then, something snapped.

Feeling returned like a full-body slap. The water became almost warm around him in comparison. Stiles kicked, elated at the sensation of movement, then kicked again, fighting towards what he hoped was the surface.

Stiles shot out of the water with a shrill scream, sucking in gulps of wonderfully warm, dry air. He thrashed wildly, blinking his wet eyes to clear the water from them. The light was blinding. His left arm hit something solid and Stiles immediately latched on and began climbing. His ape-like ancestors would have been proud.

His tree, however, was less than pleased.

"Dude, knock it OFF-!"

Stiles was suddenly being yanked painfully as his tree wobbled, then fell. He was dunked for a second time and prepared himself for the feeling of darkness and ice to take over again.

But it didn't happen.

Instead, the tepid water filled his mouth and nose and he spluttered back above the surface. Beside him, his tree- which he now realized was a _person_\- shoved his gasping form away.

"Eahh-!" The not-tree growled, "That's it, you little shit! I'm going to drown you-!"

"Come on, now. Don't drown him, Ethan," called one of the laughing guards from the bank. "We'll probably get _yelled at_ if he dies. Not worth the trouble." Stiles blinked the water out of his eyes in time to see the guards doubled over, cackling.

Stiles would have been annoyed at the lack of respect for the _sacredness_ of his life, but at that moment the young man pulled at his arm roughly and growled, "Stand. Up. _Moron_."

And Stiles did.

His shoes sunk a bit in the soft silt beneath him- but it was there. Right there. Good ole Mother Earth, like she's never abandoned him to a watery death. The water barely rose past his waist. His legs trembled beneath him, threatening to dunk him back under.

It took several seconds for his mind to stop reeling from the fear of drowning, but when it did Stiles' very first fully coherent thought was to get THE HELL OUT.

He speed-waded for the closest bank, which unfortunately was where the guards were standing (read as: hunched over, recovering from uproarous laughter). Realizing his mistake, he immediately turned to gauge the distance to the opposite shore- as well as the likelihood of surviving the clearly magical and malevolent water. Before he could make a decision, the guards apparently caught on to his plan. They were suddenly splashing toward him and dragging him out of the river.

He was dumped unceremoniously onto the thick grass several yards from the edge of the water.

Stiles watched as the other men of the group waded back to the shore calmly, dripping wet btu apparently unphased.

Ethan, the guy he had apparently tried to climb, shot him a heated yellow glare.

Werewolf. _Called it._

Stiles felt a chuckle tremble out of him as his body shook. The cold seemed to have permeated into his _soul._ His sopping wet clothes were plastered to his shaking body as the group gathered back together.

"You feelin' a little more cooperative now, kid?" The guard, Harry, chortled.

Stiles chattered his teeth sarcastically at him.

"Good. Now, we're all gonna go inside, then, if you _want_, you can change into some dry clothes and get ready for the ceremony. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"I hate _you_ the _most_," Stiles huffed stubbornly, but allowed them to heft him onto his weak legs. Harry's smile was nothing short of gleeful. Sucking in more glorious dry air, Stiles hissed, "What the FUCK was that?"

"That," Harry answered, with a disgusting amount of cheer, "was the Cleansing."

"What," Stiles sputtered as he was half-pulled back into the huge wooden doorway, "Did I just get _werewolf baptized_!?"

It seemed almost pitch black inside after the yellow light behind them. Stiles was forced to trust the group blindly as they made there way back through another door and down what seemed to be another corridor lit dimly with torches.

"Hmm…" Harry hummed thoughtfully as they walked, "I guess 'baptism' is pretty close. More of a…_purification_, really. Gotta get the scents off of ya for the Hunt. To make it fair, you know."

"This just keeps sounding better and better," Stiles muttered as they entered into new room.

His jaw dropped.

Stiles stared blankly around the spacious room. His mind was probably still recovering from his near-death experience, but still…

It was…_nice_. And not a '_you're in the fanciest dungeon in the best wing of the haunted medievel castle'_ nice.

Freaking '_you just stepped into the locker room of a five-star hotel, and, oh by the way, our toilet paper cost more than your life'_ nice.

There were restroom stalls on one side and polished wood shelves everywhere stocked with super-plush looking white towels. The floor was actual-fucking _marble. _He almost felt bad as his sopping wet shoes squished across the glossy stone.

"I…I am so _fucking confused_…." He groaned, eyes trying to take in the room.

"Alright, easy now," Harry patted his shoulder firmly, "Just take a few deep breaths. Always a shock for first-timers. Now, you go on and get out of those wet clothes, and, if you want, you can pick out your size clothes from the shelves over there." He pointed towards stacks of black cloth past the towels. An older man was standing patiently beside the shelves, handing clothes to Ethan.

As reluctant as Stiles had been about stripping before, he now had zero qualms. He peeled off his heavy clothing with barely a mumbled complaint, dropped them all together in a sopping pile right there on the floor, and hurried across the room shivering despite the warm air.

Behind him, the guards suddenly cheered and high-fived. Stiles sent them a withering look, determined to maintain as much dignity as a one hundred forty-six pound naked and shivering teenager could.

As the man selected a pile of clothing for him, Stiles turned to see one of the guards scooping up his old clothes and tossing them into what appeared to be a trash can.

"Hey!" Stiles snapped, tugging what turned out to be a black tank top over his head, "That shirt is a collector's item!" He found matching shorts in his stack and hopped into them quickly.

The logo on the shorts had Stiles' eyebrows raising.

Well, _damn, _Stiles gaped. Based on the familiar label, the shorts he was wearing would've paid for TEN collector's t-shirts. Christ! He hadn't _ever_ been able to convince his dad to splurge for this brand of clothing!

Despite their obvious price, they were still a pretty…_snug fit_.

He turned to man who had passed out the clothes. "Uh, hey dude. Maybe a few sizes up. These don't leave much to the imagination, if you catch my drift…"

The man, who looked like he could've passed for employee-of-the-month at Target, gave him a genuinely friendly smile as he scanned the clothing. "Hmm, no, sir. That looks like the perfect fit. These outfits are meant to be light-weight and form-fitting."

The term 'outfit' however, implied that the two scraps of thin black spandex were actually worthy of the classification of clothing versus _male lingerie_.

"Okay. Uh, where's the rest?"

"Sir?"

"Of the outfit."

"…"

The man at least had the grace to look embarrassed.

"This is ALL I'm expected to wear?" Stiles demanded.

"Well, yes, sir. Any more would slow you down."

"Slow me…down…?"

There seemed to be a moment of dawning realization for the man. "Oh! You must be a a first-timer from the outside! Gosh, I wish they'd give you all little name-tags or something so I'd know. How embarrassing!" Stiles just stared dumbly as the man explained, "Don't worry about the clothes- most participants don't even bother with them. I promise, you're gonna look like a prude in comparison."

A glance at the others from his group confirmed the man's statement. _Apparently_, only Stiles and the young werewolf, Aiden, were opting to get dressed.

_Awkward_.

Stiles turned back to the smiling man and nodded. "Right. Good to know. Uh, since I have you here, maybe you could explain what _the fuck_ is happening." Stiles tried for a friendly smile, despite his manic words.

The man laughed softly. "Oh, don't worry! They have pamphlets."

Stiles blinked at the man. The man smiled back.

"_Pamphlets_?"

"Yep. Ve-ry helpful."

"Okay. That's…yeah, _great_. But, maybe you could, uh, I don't know… summarize them for me?"

"Oh, gosh, we'd be here all day if I tried to explain the Hunt! And," he glanced at the watch on his wrist, "you all had better be getting along if you want to get some food and goodies before it starts."

As if hearing the man (which they probably did- eavesdropping werewolf douches), the guards called out from their spots by the door, "Alright, wrap it up folks. Last call for clothes and toilets."

Stiles frowned and gave the man a half-hearted wave. It was pretty hard to keep the guy classified as 'the enemy' when he seemed like someone's grandfather.

Minutes later, after a trip to the hands-down _fanciest toilet_ he's ever used, Stiles was back in a group with the others, feeling a tiny bit more emotionally prepared for the next traumatic experience. Present trauma excluded, of course. Locker room nudity was one thing, but standing so close to bare-assed strangers was…uncomfortable. He had thought the high school locker rooms were bad…

Stiles shook his head in mute disapproval and tried to look anywhere but at the men around him and their corresponding junk.

Obviously, _they_ were comfortable with being naked, considering how relatively in shape they were. It was just that, well, too much confidence was off-putting. Stiles' wasn't…unattractive, but did you see him advertising his commodities at the first chance? Hell, no. He was raised better. Not by wolves, like these people (which may actually be the case, he realized).

"Alright, move along into the arena everyone," a guard called out, ushering the small group back into the dim hallway and towards a huge set of heavy double-doors.

The almost constant hum that seemed to be a part of the stone building itself grew louder as they moved towards the thick doors at the end.

Stiles felt his sense dread and apprehension kick back in as he followed the group. He could begin to make out individual voices and words from the otherside.

The chattering sounded…_festive_?

As they finally reached the doors, two of the guards stepped forward on either side and pushed.

The golden sunlight shone in, blinding Stiles again, just as a bright and familiar voice shouted happily-

"Welcome to the two hundred and fourteenth annual Hunt!"

A round of enthusiastic clapping followed the announcement.

In front of them stood the short, plump woman who had welcomed him when he arrived in the van.

She was completely naked.

"OH MY- CHRIST!" Stiles threw his hands up to protect his innocent eyes.

...-^o^-...

END Ch. 6


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay, folks. There are errors and grammar mistakes in this story. I KNOW there are. I can't spot them right now, but I can sense them. Ten points to Gryffindor if you point them out to me. (Or ten points FROM Gryffindor, whatever floats your boat.) : D

But, seriously, if you see any typos or are confused about a possible storyline error, please let me know. I've been off my writing game for months now, so I need a bit of help. Also, this story is a Work In Progress (WIP), so I'm continuously trying to improve it and shape it into what I need to make it work. I've had to make a change to Mischa and Stiles' van conversation in chapter three, so maybe roll back through and re-read that portion? (Nothing too major, just made it a little more vague to avoid some spoilers.)

I hope you enjoy!

...-^o^-...

Stiles needed bleach. SO-MUCH-BLEACH.

Throwing his hand up defensively to block the plump woman from sight, Stiles tried to see around her. Past her. Anywhere BUT her.

Beyond her, lengths of tables stretched out for almost twenty yards with friendly-looking people applauded and waving.

They were ALL naked, too.

Past the tables and smiling faces were-

-_hundreds_…

There were _hundreds_ of naked people packed together in the huge arena.

Stiles entire body convulsed with shock. To be fair, some of the people were dressed in the thin, form-fitting black outfit that he was wearing. But most were definitely rocking their birthday suits. And if Stiles was being one hundred percent honest, only about forty percent of them deserved to be showing off that much skin.

Naked people were supposed to be young and _attractive_! Why else would someone be naked where they could be _seen_? There was so much…_hair_. And _sagging_ _skin_…

Stiles' stomach rolled dangerously.

The overwhelming amount of nudity almost successfully distracted him from the giant elephant in the room- or in this case, the giant creepy-ass tree stretching into the sky and expanding it's lush canopy out at the center of the arena.

It was obviously the focal-point of the arena. The branches didn't stretch very high, but they fanned out for a diameter of what had to be at least a seventy feet. At the base, enormous roots spread widely out, dipping into the earth AND into the soft flowing river that passed right through and beneath them.

Even Stiles could feel the unmistakeable pulse of power coming in waves from the tree. Small fucking wonder the water of the river had tripped him out.

_**Magic**_…

Stiles felt light-headed.

"I…" He began weakly, brow drawing together with intense concentration as his scattered thoughts buzzed around. "I don't _understand_.…"

"Yeah," the young werewolf, Ethan, smirked as he stepped up beside him, "It's always a shock for the newbies."

"Don't act so superior, son," rumbled one of their guards as he passed by, "isn't this your first time, too?"

Ethan's mouth thinned sourly as the guard chuckled and stepped away. Meanwhile the hostess hadn't even stopped her spiel, voice rising and falling cheerfully. Stiles couldn't focus on a word of it.

Still shocked, and grateful to have ANYONE speaking to him, Stiles wailed, "They're…they're so _naked_," his arm waved helplessly in the direction of their chubby host in all her drooping-breasted glory. He cringed again at the sight, but just let the horror happen.

"Un-huh." The boy replied, shrugging as if to say, '_it_ _happens_'.

"WHY are they so _naked_?" He tried and failed to keep the hysteria out of his voice.

"Well, for werewolves, it makes it easier to shift quickly."

"They're ALL werewolves?"

"No."

Stiles shook his head helplessly. "I-I thought naked people were supposed to be _hot_. Porn lied to me." The other boy chuckled. Stiles glared disapprovingly. "How are you okay with this, dude?"

The guy shrugged, "Naked is natural."

"There is NOTHING natural about THAT-" Stiles waved his hand in the direction of the cheerful hostess who continued reciting her welcome speech with gusto (and sweeping gestures that just jiggled everything…).

But, it was impossible to look away from all the naked when the naked was _everywhere_ _he_ _looked_. Stiles found himself almost clinging to the young man beside him, despite their previous 'misunderstanding', just because he was one of the few clothed- and by Stiles logic therefore sane- people present.

The excited woman finally finished her speech with a flourish, "And so, for all of our newcomers, step forward and take an informational pamphlet! All your questions will be answered within!"

Stiles was reluctant to move away from his now very best, and _clothed_, friend.

He was already getting some pretty intense stares from the crowd of nude people gathered beyond the tables closest to where their newly arrived group stood. Some were even beginning to whisper, like he was some sort of weirdo for clearly not choosing to embrace his inner nudist.

Excuse the fuck out of him for not parading his bare ass around for the world to see…

Ignoring the unwanted attention, Stiles decided to forge an alliance with the stoic-faced boy beside him. "So, uh, we got off on the wrong foot, ya know! Maybe we should just put the past behind us and agree to work together for the time being, huh?" Smiling as enthusiastically as he could, he extended his hand, earning an eyeroll from the stranger.

The boy frowned, but took his hand with a sigh. "My name's Ethan." He clasped Stiles' hand and Stiles tried not to wince at his strength.

"I'm St- OW! HUMAN dude, dial back a bit, huh?" He tried to shake feeling back into his crushed bones.

"It's all good, man." Ethan grinned apologetically. "No hard feelings. Kind of a lot to take in, especially if you don't know what to expect."

Stiles had never been more grateful to make a friend in his life. As they moved to stand behind the others at the first booth where thick pamphlets were being passed out, Stiles asked, "So, can you, like, maybe help me understand all-" he waved his hand in the direction of the pallet of fleshtones wandering around, "-_this_?"

Ethan sighed, staring across the arena with a frown, "The pamphlet will explain everyt-"

"Welcome to the two hundred and fourteenth annual Hunt!" They both turned to see another group was being led out of the building behind them.

Kira's horrified eyes caught his and she looked ready to faint from relief.

"Kira!" He shouted, noting that she had chosen to go with good-ole fashioned clothing. In fact, the other three females with her had apparently ALL decided to go with tight black sports bras. HOWEVER, the others seemed to think that was enough and only Kira was wearing tight shorts that matched Stiles'. He pointedly kept his eyes at head level.

Kira's eyes shifted from Stiles before he could warn her.

Her jaw dropped, body recoiling comically as her hands were thrown up to cover her face.

"_WHY_-?!"

God bless her and her normal, reasonable response to mass nudity.

Kira managed to break through her horror-fueled paralysis and dart around the hostess as she recited her lenghthy speech, giving the woman a very wide berth as she rushed over to Stiles and- to his shock- leapt into his arms.

"Oh my God! _Oh_, _my_ _God_!" She repeated, "I was so freaked out and there was a river and I thought I was dying and I thought you were dead and- and- everyone is SO NAKED!" She sucked in a few breaths before releasing him and stepping back (though not very far). "_Phew_. Okay. I'm better now. I think. Glad I got that out of my system."

"Yeah…that's, yeah good." Stiles stuttered, trying to recover from the surprise of having a girl actually throw herself at him. Most of his female aquaintances were the types HE threw HIMSELF at when scared. Of course, all his female aquaintences were some _badass_ _bitches_. It definitely wasn't a reflection on him as a man.

"So, what the hell is going on? Who are all these people?" She asked, eyeing Ethan with obvious distrust. Ethan cringed a little, then sighed.

"Sorry I called you a sissy for crying in the van on the ride over."

Stiles side-eyed him with disapproval, "_Really_, dude?"

But Kira shrugged, and muttered, "Sorry I elbowed you in balls and called YOU a sissy for cryng about it."

Stiles' mouth snapped shut. Okay… _awkward_. Well, now that apologies were over, a formal introduction seemed like a good idea.

Stiles pointed at the werewolf, "Kira, this is Ethan. Werewolf. It's his first time here, too, but he's got the insider scoop. I was just asking him about all, uh, _this_." Kira nodded, and they both looked expectantly at Ethan.

But, Ethan wasn't paying attention to them, clearly distracted. Stiles recognized the look as the tell-tale '_I'm listening to everything BUT you'_ look that werewolves wore when they were using their super-hearing. He'd seen it many times….

Suddenly Ethan's head snapped back to stare incredulously at Stiles. He gave him a quick full-body look-over before gasping, "_You're_ Stiles Stilinski?"

Stiles nodded nervously, eyes scanning the crowd again, noticing that- yeah- he was definitely the focus of way more attention than he was strictly comfortable with.

"Like- _Alpha Derek Hale's_ Stiles Stilinski?" Ethan stammered incredulously, suddenly taking several steps back.

"Uh, I mean, I'm not the dude's property, but, I guess, yeah…?"

"You're a _guy_."

"Last time I checked, yep." Stiles quipped. He was NOT going to go through this again.

"Derek Hale's _gay_…?"

Stiles' jaw dropped. he half expected Derek to suddenly melt out from the nearest shadow to rip the guy's throat out.

"Wha-what!? _WHAT_?!" Stiles erupted into horrified laughter, "Derek-Derek frickin' Hale- You think- you think-" He gave up on talking to try and preserve his breath, eyes watering painfully.

Trying to catch his breath, Stiles wheezed, "Have you ever even MET Derek? The guy is so straight his hair wouldn't hold a curl if you permed it!" Stiles burst into unstoppable giggles. "He's so straight curly fries turn to regular fries when he glares at them! He's so straight when he tries to do bicep curl-ups his arms wont bend!" Stiles was doubled over, wheezing with terror induced laughter. He knew everyone- werewolf, human, whatever- within hearing range was listening but he couldn't control himself.

"Derek-haha! Derek Hale is NOT gay! Why would you even-!?"

Ethan and Kira were both watching him, faces alarmed, as he finally recovered. So were all the staff, including the plump hostess.

And apparently half the crowd within the arena.

Okay…yeah, it was pretty funny, but not '_stop the party_' funny…

Stiles smile faltered as he glanced at the crowd, excited whispers already picking up fast.

Something was very… off here.

"But, like, seriously," Stiles tried for calm, breathing carefully, "No."

Ethan blinked stupidly at him for a second, then turned towards the whispering faces of the nearby gawking crowd like he was asking for help. Finally, he turned back to Stiles.

"So, you're…not his mate?"

Stiles felt like someone had just sucker-punched him. He actually staggered from surprise. He felt torn between horror and another round of hysterical laughter. It tried bubbling up and out of him again. Only Ethan's serious face kept him grounded.

_Mate? Why would anyone think…?_

And it all snapped into place.

Like a horrifying puzzle made of terrifying little pieces that formed something out of nightmare when combined.

The reason he was abducted.

Peter's cryptic words.

All of the strangers' weird behavior and awkward staring.

Stiles violently shifting emotions finally settled on terror, because- _Jesus Christ!_\- Derek would NOT think this was funny. Which made this the opposite of funny.

ANTI-FUCKING-FUNNY.

Stiles flailed, voice almost a shriek, "Have you- have you even SEEN Derek-! OhmyGod- he'll _kill_ you for even-! Dude! DUDE! NO!" Stiles turned in a circle, waving his hands at everyone, "NO! NO WAY! ZERO TRUTH! NO! HE'S STRAIGHT! I'M- Okay, I'm a little _curved_ maybe, BUT, NO- DEREK IS STRAIGHT!"

"But," Ethan looked beyond confused now. "Peter Hale told the Board that 'Stiles Stilinski' was Alpha Hale's mate. That's why he refused to join in the Hunt every year. You're saying he…_he lied about that_…?" Ethan's voice was so low, even werewolves would have to strain to hear him. Almost like he was afraid to make the accusation.

Stiles gawked at Ethan. "What?" He scrambled to his feet, grabbing onto Ethan's tank top, "_What_! WHAT! Peter said WHAT!? Oh…Oh shit…" Stiles released him and stumbled numbly backwards, eyes wide as he waved his hands. "That's-! That's what he told them to get me kidnapped!? Oh MY-!" Stiles crouched, ducking his head between his legs like a folding lawn chair to suck in angry breaths, before flinging himself back up to standing to hiss, "Derek is NOT gay! NOBODY IS GAY!"

"I'm gay," Ethan muttered defensively.

"Me, too." Stiles frantic waving froze as he turned towards the familiar voice.

"_Danny_?!"

Danny Mahealani smiled, approaching quickly from the edge of the crowd, who were all watching the scene by the pamphlet stand with rapt fascination. Stiles was seconds away from turning his fury at Peter Hale onto them. This was just _ridiculous_.

Peter Hale was clearly more evil than Stiles had ever anticipated.

"I heard the rumors," Danny began with a raised brows, "but I didn't think you'd actually be here, man." The other teen's perfect, warm smile was like welcome hug.

"Danny?" Stiles repeated, confused. "I-I thought you were…taking a vacation…?"

The young man shrugged charmingly, "Yeah, to here."

"Oh my God- what are you? If you've been a werewolf this whole time, I swear I'm gonna _flip this fucking table-_" He pointed sharply at the pamphlet-leaden table to his left. The staff very wisely took several steps back.

But Danny was already shaking his head, with a soft laugh, "No, Stiles. Just a regular human." Stiles was about to mumble 'thank God' when Danny added, "My _Uncle_, on the other hand…"

"You're _shitting_ me."

Danny just grinned, "So, you and _Cousin_ _Miguel_…?"

"Oh-geez! Of course you knew the whole-!" Stiles groaned. "No- me and DEREK are NOT a thing, dude! I already said- Derek is straight and DEFINITELY isn't sniffing around yours truly! I've seen him- WITH women! HOT women! I mean, not like '_seen them, seen them'_ like I'm peeking in windows or anything, but like, NO! Peter- well, obviously Peter's a liar- But this time? This time he REALLY went too far! Derek's gonna crush my delicate bones into a pulp!" Stiles suddenly stopped, mouth clamping shut tightly, eyes huge. "Oh. Oh, _fuck_! He's coming. Derek is coming here. He's coming here to _kill me._ I'm gonna _die_…"

"I feel like I'm missing something…" Stiles glanced up at Kira who was looking at him nervously. "Is this bad, like, the same kind of bad we're already in? Or new bad?" She asked.

"Both." Stiles stated weakly. "Double-bad. Bad squared."

"He's over-reacting. He does that." Danny supplied helpfully, smiling at Kira and Ethan. Kira raised her eyebrows, and Ethan…

Ethan was staring at Danny like he's just been slapped. He had that kind of 'stupid puppy' look that Scott usually had whenever Allison was around.

"…Hi." Ethan mumbled in Danny's general direction.

"Hi." Danny returned, winking.

And holy shit, they were seriously going to _flirt_ when Stiles had two hundred pounds of raw werewolf fury inbound to kill him. _Rude_.

"Listen-" Stiles interrupted the increasingly scandalous looks, " What do I do? How do I convince people that Derek isn't into me so I can leave? This-this- whatever the fuck THIS is, is obviously a huge fucking misunderstanding!"

Ethan managed to pull his attention away from Danny long enough to grumble, "I think you already have. Every werewolf here is listening and you're shouting loud enough that everyone else can probably swear to how very-straight Alpha Hale is."

Stiles did another quick look-around, and, yeah. Definitely the star attraction at this circus. Even the plump hostess and the staff at the tables were apparently hanging on to his every word like a juicy soap opera. He decided to go for broke. "Okay. Great. Yeah- listen up everyone! This is an Official Statement. Me and Derek Hale- NOT A THING! If you could just, maybe, pass that around- that'd be great! Spread the good word- save an innocent teenage boy's life in the process. Think of it as an act of charity. Good karma will come your way- guarenteed!"

The crowd seemed to collectively decide that Stiles' official rebuttal was a topic worthy of excited discussion, because they immediately turned their attention away from him and his group and towards their neighbors each other. The sounds of chatter was like buzzing throughout the walled space.

Stiles caught the hostess's eye and mustered up his most indignant tone of voice as he marched over to her.

"I demand to leave."

The woman shuffled backwards, smiling nervously as he towered a solid two feet above her. "Now, honey, I'm afraid we can't just-"

A second woman rushed over and interrupted them, eyeing Stiles like he was going to turn his wrath on her, "Um, ma'am, the last van just arrived. And, um, the _time_…"

The change in the hostess was immediate. She squawked with alarm. "OH! Oh, fudge and brownies! It's almost time!" She spun away and began her speed-waddling towards the double-doors. "OH! They'll barely have time to go throught the booths! Nevermind the pamphlets! Oh- I just get so flustered when they wait til the last minute. It's not as if we can just ASK the Nemeton to wait on them-! My clothes! Where did I put those darned things-?"

The sight of the plump woman's jiggling body from the back was almost enough to make Stiles gag, but he choked it back and shouted after her, "HEY! What about me?"

She called over fleshy shoulder, "You can't leave now! Read your pamphlet, sweetyyy-!" The large group of guards followed quickly behind her, shutting the double-doors with an air of finality.

Stiles turned to the staff manning the booths (who were smiling despite obviously trying to avoid his furious eyes), then to Kira with a raised brow, which she returned.

They turned in unison to Ethan, who was still making bedroom eyes at Danny. It was Danny who stepped over to explain. "No one's allowed to leave once they get here. Including unwilling participants."

Stiles blinked at him. "Well, fuck."

One of the staff at the booth beside him finally met his eye and gave him a pitying look, then held out one of the thick blue pamphlets.

At a loss, Stiles took it.

Then moved, along with Kira and Ethan, to the next booth.

"We are so screwed." Stiles muttered.

"You have no idea," Ethan responded ahead of them.

"Are…are those _condoms_?" Stiles eyes took in the bright little packages spread out neatly across the table of the next booth. A friendly looking woman passed him a wristband with a zippered pouch from across the table. He held it up, shaking his head. "I can't- No. You know what," Stiles wiped a hand across his face tiredly. "I can't even be shocked anymore."

"Well, I can! Why are there _condoms_! My Mom said find a 'husband'! She didn't say anything about making it OFFICAL!" Kira picked up one of the small packets, then dropped it like it was a slug. "Is this an orgy?" Her eyes became impossibly huge as she turned from the smiling staff to Stiles. "Are we at an _orgy_? Is that why everyone is naked?" She fumbled, snapping open her pamphlet so hard it actaully ripped apart in her hands.

"We are NOT at an orgy," Stiles turned to Danny, who was shadowing their group, apparently just to continue flashing his perfect smile at the blushing Ethan. "Dude- tell Kira this is NOT an orgy." He tried to sound confident, for Kira's (and his own) sake. Danny looked like he was going to tell Stiles to read the pamphlet, too, so Stiles cut him off, "Do _NOT_ tell me to read the damn pamphlet. I haven't had my adderall for at least twenty-four hours. I have been chased, drugged, kidnapped, groped, kissed, AND had to deal with PETER-FUCKING-HALE'S super-cryptic, lying liar face! I need answers. NOT reading material!" He waved the thick folded paperwork high in the air for emphasis.

The area around their small group was silent as they became the center of attention yet again, but Stiles was keeping his eyes firmly planted on Danny, who seemed to be struggling with what to say. Past the series of stands, from the direction of the idling crowd, Stiles' heard snickers.

"It's not an orgy," Stiles and Kira visibly relaxed, "…_technically_." Danny finished, wincing. At their faces, he continued quickly. "Well, it's not if you don't want it to be. It's sort of," he shrugged, meeting Ethan's eye awkwardly, "like a… talent show."

"Dude, _what_?" Stiles whined, just as Ethan nodded thoughtfully, "No, that's actually pretty close."

Stiles and Kira shared a matching look of '_nothing about this is like a talent show'_.

"It's like this," Danny continued helpfully, "the Hunt," he gestured at the arena, giant tree, and partially dressed crowd, "is a competition to show off your skills or value- like advertising yourself. Except, not everyone is advertising the same thing. Most people are here because-" his eyes darted to Ethan's and they both looked away with matching blushes, "-it's a good way to get positive attention from the Packs. And, er, _unattached_ _singles_."

"Please tell me there is an area set up somewhere out of sight full of speed-dating tables." Stiles deadpanned.

Danny gave him a look that clearly said he thought Stiles was an idiot. "No, man. No tables. It's actually," he pointed to the edges of the arena where the tall walls rose, only interrupted every thirty or so feet by ornate arched openings that seemed to lead to woods beyond, "you just sort of…run in the direction of the pack territory you want, and hope for the incoming 'Hunters' to take interest."

"Hunters," Stiles repeated, incredulously, "There are hunters here? In the middle of werewolf land?"

"Not like that, hunters just means the wolves that start opposite from here at the boundary of their territory. They start running from their side at sunset, and we start from here."

"Wait, so Derek? He's not coming _here_?" Stiles asked hopefully.

"No," Danny replied, "If he's participating, he'll be starting from Hale territory and heading in this direction." Danny gestured to an arch across the arena.

Stiles squinted, and could just barely make out the familiar spiral arms of a carved triskellion. "Well, that's a small relief. A few more precious moments to appreciate the beauty of life before he rips out my jugular in a wolfy-rage. _Fantastic_."

But, Stiles' mind was already jumping the rails and heading in a completely different direction. Because suddenly the crazy-hot Alpha stalker that apparently flirted with him less than an hour ago was seeming a hell of a lot _less_ crazy…

_'I want you. I will come for you from the direction of the Durst pack territory tonight, at The Hunt. Run in that direction and I will meet you.'_

They said it was all a weird, werewolfy 'talent show'.

And the dude, Mischa, wanted Stiles…

A hot-as-fuck- Alpha werewolf WANTED Stiles. In the _Biblical_ sense.

"So," Stiles swallowed nervously, remembering the enthusiastic kiss in the back of the van, "We just, uh, run in the direction of a pack territory and all incoming werewolves and-?"

Danny nodded, and continued, "Yeah, a lot of people want to, like, request favors from the Packs, so they try to make it safely past the Hunters and cross the territory border. The Packs are required to honor their request. But, most people are here to try and get claimed."

"Like, _sex_?" Kira suddenly blurted from Stiles' side.

"Yeah," Danny grinned, pointedly NOT looking in Ethan's direction. "Option two for participating in the Hunt is to try and get a werewolf's attention and- well, you know…" Danny coughed- Still very much ignoring Ethan, who was turning a faint shade of pink and not-so-subtly sniffing in Danny's direction.

"Wait. So, you just…uh, I mean…" Stiles struggled, "Just right there in the middle of the forest?"

Danny and Ethan shrugged simultaneously. Kira's jaw was hanging open.

"That sounds…uncomfortable." Stiles managed.

"Oh. Yeah, no. They've got all the basics covered. This isn't the Dark Ages." Danny gestured to the table full of condoms and tiny packets of lube, and then further. "Pretty much whatever floats your boat- they've got it. They even added anal plugs a few years back because of popular demand."

"_Who asked for-?"_ Stiles stopped himself, then took a breath. "Okay, nevermind. Just, let me get my head wrapped around all of this." Danny smiled patiently. "We are at a werewolf talent show-slash-dating game."

He shrugged again and nodded.

Stiles continued slowly, "Where we can try to show how awesome we are by running through the _woods_, at _night_, during a _full_ _moon_, in order to either get something from a pack or have _kinky forest sex with a werewolf_."

"Yep," Danny, Ethan and the nearby line of (eavesdropping) table staff all replied as one.

Stiles sent an annoyed look at the strangers, then asked Danny, "Is there ANYTHING ELSE that we should be aware of?"

Danny lifted his hand over his shoulder to indicate the massive tree behind him, "Well, that tree is magic and controls the forest during the Hunt." Stiles and Kira blinked over at the ominous tree, then back at Danny, who added thoughtfully, "It's kind of a big deal. Likes to mess with people's heads."

"_Riiight_." Stiles clapped his hands together.

-Magically possesed evil trees.

-Hot stalker alphas.

-A slim, but possible chance of finally getting laid (assuming Derek doesn't catch up to him first and eviserate him for getting himself kidnapped over their non-existent gay relationship).

"That's…_right_. Okay. Well," He shuffled awkwardly, before finally nodding, "_You know, since I'm already here…_"

He moved forward, scooping up a handful of condoms and lube.

…

A few minutes later, from the direction of the pamphlet table and huge double-doors, the hostess had reappeared from a door nearby in all her nude glory, looking exhausted and out of breath. "Okay, dearies just bring them all out quickly- it's almost time to begin!"

There were muffled noises, like shouting, then the doors were thrown open.

"_-where Stiles is or I'm gonna rip your testicles out through your mouth-!_"

Everyone turned in the direction of the arrving group. Even the hostess seemed frozen, mouth open in preparation to begin her speech.

"_Allison_…?" Stiles asked weakly from where he was trying to squeeze a mini-vibating anal plug into his already stuffed wristband.

From where she stood in her dripping floral boyshorts and pink bra, Allison froze and turned. She had one arm wrapped in a tight choke hold around the neck of a wide-eyed female guard. In her other hand, she was waving a…

…_shoe_. Her expensive high-heeled shoe, to be specific.

Several male and female guards were a safe distance away, faces clearly panicked. Leave it to Allison Argent to terrify an army of werewolves...

And Boyd was there, Stiles noted numbly. Standing in wet red boxers just behind Allison, stoic-faced but with claws extended in silent warning at his sides.

"_Stiles_-! Thank _God_!" Allison shouted, face shifting from homicidal she-demon huntress to soft-eyed kitten. "We were so worried! We're here to rescue you!" She beamed her perfect, dimpled smile at him.

Stiles felt the weight of over a hundred eyes turn to him.

"Oh. Awesome. _Um, about that…"_

Allison's eyes moved from Stiles' to take in the crowded arena, the mostly naked crowd, and giant tree practically glowing with magic. Stiles waited for the inevetible shock and horror to set in.

"_Oh my God_," she gasped, releasing her blue-faced hostage. Her brown huge brown eyes fell on Stiles, and she hissed, "We're in the _Hunger Games._"

Stiles tried to facepalm, but ended up smacking himself in the eye with a purple anal plug instead.

...-^o^-...

End Ch. 7


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I am SO sorry this took so long. Thank you all for your patience. (And huge thanks for all the wonderful reviews and likes!)

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"Wow," Allison flexed, hopping up and down several times (which caused a man nearby to discreetly cover his junk with a huge fried chicken leg and shuffle awkwardly further down the food line), "these clothes are super-lightweight, but somehow still very functional." She nodded thoughtfully as she assessed her thin black shorts and tank.

Following an intervention and brief explanation, both she and Boyd had agreed to follow Hunt protocol and were quickly outfitted in the tight clothing.

"The material is good quality, too." Kira added conversationally. "Wont snag easily on branches and it's rip-resistant. Very considerate of them. Plus, the fit is slimming." She followed this statement by cramming a dozen kecthup-drenched french fries into mouth.

Allison nodded enthusiastically as she snatched four shrimp from a cocktail glass. "I know, right? And this _food_-! Top quality. They really go all out."

"HERK YASS!" Stiles contributed from where he stood nearby, shooting pie crumbles onto the ground in front of him.

"_Classy_," a very naked (and shockingly attractive) young woman sneered as she reached past him to bare-hand a whole 20 ounce steak from the stack beside Stiles.

"Fank eu," Stiles spewed cordially as he addressed her rosy left nipple. He waved cheerfully after her with his fork as she strode away, ripping indelicately into the steak with her teeth.

Really, once he adjusted to the idea of mass nudity and trained his eyes to filter out the (many, oh, so many) gross bits, he wasn't even phased anymore.

And the clothes and food really _were_ good quality. He was actually beginning to look forward to the Hunt.

Plus, you know, SEX. Which was still REALLY hard to even consider. Especially when there were so many people…

Would Mischa really pass up on all the smoking hot-hotties just for Stiles…?

More realistically, could Stiles _blame him_ if he did suddenly change his mind? Maybe after having some time to think about it…

Stiles swallowed his bite of rich chocolate pie just as the intercom system loudly announced:

'Ten Minutes. Ten Minutes Remaining Before the Start of The Hunt!' Stiles recognized the warning voice of the jiggling hostess coming over an unseen speaker system. 'Please make your way to the Pack Gate of your choosing. No pushing. No clawing. Last call for the goody tables. Remember, grab yourself wet-wipes now! If you don't take some with you, you may accidentally clean up with poison oak- _it happens to someone every year people!_ Plan ac-cor-ding-lyyyy.'

Patting his full stomach, Stiles turned to Ethan, who had been following their group, and Danny, like a (no pun intended) love-sick puppy. "Whelp," Stiles began, stretching, "Bout that time. So, uh, which one of those symbol-thingies is for the Durst pack?" He waved in the direction of the nearest arch.

There was a moment of confused silence from his friends-

-and the area at large. The void of sound was followed quickly by a burst of low whispers.

He should really be getting used to being the center of attention. Apparently it didn't take much.

"Durst?" Ethan asked. "You mean _Hale, right?_"

"Um. No.…" Stiles stated with a grimace.

"_Stiles_," Allison warned lowly, giving him an alarmed look. "We ARE running for the Hale territory, aren't we? Everyone is coming from that way… to HELP us. Remember? The conversation we had a whole _fifteen minutes ago…?_"

"_Ahhh…_" Yeah, so maybe in the rush and hassle of grabbing toys and condoms and shoveling five-star buffet food into his mouth, he hadn't really gotten around to mentioning the whole 'super hot in a malevolent kinda way werewolf dude that wants to bone me' thing. It definitely had nothing to do with the needle-like guilt that had been stabbing him relentlessly since Allison and Boyd's arrival with news of the rest of the pack's rescue plans.

Not at all. No-pe.

He broached the explanation as gracefully as possible.

"So, there's this smoking hot alpha-"

"_STILES._" Both Boyd and Allison cut him off with exasperated looks.

"Okay- listen! YOU GUYS can do whatever, but _me_? I'm getting laid tonight and that sure as hell isn't likely to happen if Derek _snaps my neck on sight_ for dragging him out here to," he waved his hands wildly, voice raising, "_Werewolf Wonderland!_"

"He's here to SAVE you, Stiles!" Allison hissed, stamping her bare foot. "EVERYONE is here to save YOU!"

"Save me from _what_, Ally!? Awesome forest sex?" He asked angrily. "Listen, we know everything is cool now- no actual deathy-danger to be found. Just a shit-ton of horny werewolves and humans and uh," he paused, gesturing at Kira, "other stuff, all just looking to hook-up! So, no, you are NOT gonna make me feel bad about trying to finally get laid. Denied." He turned sharply away from her frowning face, forcing the bubbling guilt inside him back down, and looked towards Ethan's upraised eyebrows. "_Which gate, dude?_"

Ethan pointed mutely towards an arch that had a symbol resembling a triangle with a creepy eye in the middle. Stiles lifted his head and marched stiffly towards the gate. Behind him, Ethan muttered, "This is gonna be _e-pic…_"

Stiles tried not to cringe as he stomped toward the growing crowd surrounding the huge stone opening. People were staring. Like, ALL the people. They were watching his approach with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Several even began backing away the closer he drew nervously closer.

Even MORE people were glaring. Mostly the hot chicks. Stiles had an immediate flashback to the time Scott dared him to run through the girl's locker room in middle school P.E. class. If these angry women started throwing lip gloss tubes at him and chasing him with hot curling irons, it would actually be exactly the same.

"Um…" Stiles started awkwardly, as he reached the crowd. "'Sup?"

The crowd shuffled carefully away from him, leaving him alone in what was best described as a 'radius of unpopularity'.

"O-_kay_." Stiles forced his grimace into a smile, which he directed at trampled daisy near his bare feet.

"Um, Honey," Stiles glanced up to meet the sympathetic gaze of a beautiful pair of boobs. Fingers snapping directed his attention further up, to the boobs' owner, an attractive blonde with a soft smile. "I think you may be a little… er," she bit her pink lips as her eyes looked around for help.

"_Confused! Lost! Wrong!_" Snapped several angry women at the edge of his Ring O' Isolation. Eyes were flashing like Christmas lights.

Not good.

"We'll stick with 'confused' I think." The woman decided, mouth smirking for a split-second. "He's just a little kid, ladies. And human." The blonde waved soothingly at the snarling crowd, then turned back to Stiles. "It's…Stiles, right?" Stiles nodded warily. "Well, Stiles, the problem is…Mischa Durst? He's not gay. Sorry." She ended softly with a small frown of her bow-like lips.

"Ah. _Right_. See, I wouldn't have thought so either," Stiles started cautiously, getting major bad vibes from woman casting him a pitying look, "except for the whole kissing and telling me to run for him so he can claim me…_thing_…."

The woman went from Cabbage Patch-cute to Bride of Chucky so fast that Stiles hopped backwards, hands up in front of him in defensive fists. Like his bony fists were even an option for self-defense. Her gold eyes seared into him, face contorting into a mask of fury.

"You're. Lying!" She rumbled dangerously.

"Yep! Yes! I to-tally lied! My bad-!" Stiles spluttered, backing even further away so quickly that he bumped the edges of the crowd.

"_He wasn't lying- his heart didn't skip! Did you hear it?_" Someone whispered nearby excitedly.

"_I heard that during his capture-!_" Another voice began.

"_And they intercepted his van on the way here, and Harry was telling Joyce that-_"

"_MY cousin SAW the bite mark-!_"

Several people shouted '_bullshit_', and the large crowd erupted into heated argument.

Stiles was only half-listening. He was busy watching with fascination and dread as the she-wolf standing ten feet in front of him began sprouting a beard.

Erica did that sometimes. It was commonly accepted code for 'No, I did not find that remark and/or act to be humourous. On the _contrary_, in fact-'

Stiles had even seen Boyd and Derek rearrange whole rooms of furniture to clear an expeditious path AWAY from her when she got into one those moods.

Stiles didn't think he could move the dozens of bodies near him quite as successfully.

"Shut up! EVERYONE!" Shouted the now partially wolfed out she-wolf through sharpened teeth. "Mischa is a pure-blood! He would never pollute his family name by mating a human! And a BOY! With _bad skin!_"

"Um, _excuse you_. They're beauty marks." Stiles couldn't resist snapping at a barely audible whisper.

The she-wolf hunched so low, her now-furry knuckles almost scraped the stomped ground. Stiles bit back a small scream.

"Well, somebody's feeling a tad bit threatened," a man nearby snorted, causing several other people to erupt into snickers.

"FUCK YOU, STAN-!" Roared the woman, tearing her glowing eyes from Stiles for a blessed second.

"No thanks, Cassandra. Much like my cousin Mischa, you're not my type either."

"_Oooohhhh-_" The crowd mocked, apparently unconcerned with the inevitable bloodbath they were provoking.

Stiles put his years of practiced self-minamalizing to the test, trying to shrink himself into non-existence until the increasingly angry crowd forgot he existed.

"Mischa finds me VERY FUCKING ATTRACTIVE!" The she-wolf shrieked. "I'M A PERFECT MATE!"

Her proclamation was met by a round of hysterical coughs, even from some of the women who had been snarling at Stiles only moments before.

The she-wolf was practically foaming at the mouth now. After spinning to snap angrily at the smirking faces around her, she rounded back on Stiles, who had ALMOST successfully merged seamlessly into the edge of crowd. _Shit_.

"None of that matters, because NO ONE would choose this weak, mouthy little human CHILD over a born wolf who can bear pups!"

"_I think he's cute,_" An elderly lady yelled from his left. Stiles flushed, unsure whether the gray-haired woman was serious or just enjoying baiting the blonde.

"_I like his nose!_" There were giggles following that statement, then-

"_And that loooong neck-_" Stiles instictively tucked his head down and shoulders up, like a turtle.

Apparently encouraged by the movement, the crowd burst into whistles and lewd cat-calls.

Werewolves are fucking weird, he thought as his face burned hotly under their continued commentary.

"_Apparently Alpha Hale and Alpha Durst both have a thing for the cute, mouthy types-! Too bad, ladies!_" Someone pointed out loudly.

Stiles shot his hands up high, hurrying to correct the unseen speaker, "AH! Wait- no! Actually, that whole Derek-thing was all a big misunderstanding. I don't know if you happened to hear me _shouting_ about that particuar subject earlier-"

"Greedy little meat sack-!" The she-wolf stalked forward.

"HEY! Back off, Bitch-Barbie!"

Allison was suddenly between Stiles and the sharp-clawed blonde, a very small blade gleaming under the werewolf's hairy chin.

Boyd, Danny, Kira and even Ethan appeared as well, taking up defensive stances beside Stiles.

The crowd around the arched gate fell into stunned silence.

"Oh, my-!" Stiles voice cracked as he flailed, "Ally, where were you HIDING THAT-!? You were supposed to turn over all your weapons! _Christ- I can't take you anywhere-!_" He smacked at her wrist in a panic, "Put that _down_! You're gonna get us kicked out of- _Is that the pie-slicer_!? Ally- take that back to the buffet right _now_!" Stiles hissed, face burning red.

"She was threatening you!" Allison jabbed the blunt blade in the angry blondes' direction.

"Just friendly banter, Ally! Boyd- _a little help?!_"

Boyd growled lowly at the she-wolf, flexing his muscled chest and arms in warning.

"NOT what I meant-!" Stiles groaned. "Listen- we're all here, in the spirit of fairness, to try and get laid-"

"_I'm actually here because I need a loan-!_" Someone corrected helpfully.

"Yeah, I meant-" Stiles began.

"_I'm trying to break the current speed record across the Durst territory line-_" Another person supplied.

"_My mom says I need to get out of the basement more-_" A third voice chimed in blandly.

"OKAY!" Stiles shouted, trying to shove his friends back, away from the snarling she-wolf. "What I MEANT was that we all have our reasons for being here, and I'm sure we will ALL do our best to FAIRLY achieve our various goals! With the MINIMUM amount of violence!"

There was round of low mumbling and embarrassed shuffling.

"Geez," Stiles ran a hand through his short hair, "Nevermind. Just- Let's go guys."

Stiles turned to stomp his way through the parting crowd. He resisted the urge to flip a bird behind him at the now smirking blonde.

"Go where?" Kira asked, hurrying to follow with the others close behind.

"To the Hale gate, or _whatever_! At least no crazy werewolf-chicks are going to be trying to screw Derek."

"_Um, Stiles_…" Allison tried to warn, but not quickly enough.

The low chorus of angry growling had Stiles freezing mid-step.

A wall of over forty glowing-eyed women were standing, arms crossed, blocking front of the Triskellion gate, skewering Stiles with angry glares.

"_Seriously-_!? Have any of you even MET Derek? Or did you just see a photo- cause his social skills are-" He whined, shoulders dropping wearily.

"WELCOME, EVERYONE, TO THE START OF THE HUNT!"

Stiles attention was immediately pulled to the high-rise platform centered lose to the massive tree in the middle of the arena. He could just make out the nude shape of the Hostess, standing beside a line of taller robed figures.

Somewhere, close by, drum beat deeply, once. Then again.

And again.

_**BOOM!**_

…-^o^-…

"Derek…?"

"What?"

"HOW did you NEVER tell us about all of this?"

"What?" Derek barked, not even turning to look at the remaining members of his pack.

"He's asking why you never mentioned that you were FUCKING RICH and had a massive super-pack living in city FULL of other werewolves!" Scott bit out angrily.

Isaac nodded. "Yeah. That about sums it up."

"Not important." Derek barely spared either of them a glance, his eyes returning to the same place they had been locked for the past fifteen minutes since their arrival at the Hale '_mansion_'.

"Not important?" Scott asked incredulously, as his and the other betas turned to take in the crowded expanse of yard bordering the nearby woods. (BEHIND the fucking '_mini-castle_' that apparently was DEREK'S family estate). "Yeah. Clearly none of this matters. I mean, not when you have a cozy abandoned TRAIN STATION to squat in-!"

Derek ducked his head slightly, but ignored Scott's angry accusation in favor of keeping his gaze locked on the forest.

"Speaking of people that conveniently don't tell the truth, where the hell is Peter lurking?" Erica asked, glancing around suspiciously. As it Peter would slink out of a convenient shadow and make his usual theatrical entrance.

"Oh, he's tucked away safely inside," Uncle Terry laughed as he kicked a nearby dwindling bonfire back to life. "And you best believe he's got a few of the most fortified doors in the place between him an Derek, here. He's a sonofabitch, but not _stupid._"

"He's hiding? Are you sure? I-I totally thought he was gonna make a move to take Derek out tonight!" Scott looked completely at loss, as did the other two betas. "I thought that was the WHOLE POINT of dragging Derek out here! To try and kill him. _Again._"

"Don't think he was ever planning a coup, to be honest." Uncle Terry's face darkened briefly as he stared at Derek's back. "Damned if I know what he's really about…"

"Good." Derek suddenly growled from his spot, without bothering to look at any of them again.

"This is the _weirdest shit_ that has ever happened to me," Isaac groaned. "And that includes getting turned. What is even happening? And how could you not mention any of this to us before now?" He demanded from Derek, who made no sign of hearing or caring. Isaac ran his hands over his face in frustartion. "Today's been like an episode of the fucking Twilight Zone!"

As soon as the group had arrived, Scott, Isaac and Erica had been greeted excitedly by a waiting hoarde of Hales. It was almost too overwhelming for the group.

There were baby Hales, hunched elderly Hales, betas, humans- Hales gathered everywhere along the treeline leading into the shadowed forest.

The same treeline that Derek had planted himself in front of immediately upon arrival and refused to budge from since.

While Derek concentrated his brooding at the woods, the rest of the pack were given sets of thin black clothes and a speedy welcome tour by the cheerful 'Uncle Terry'.

"Don't ya be bitter with Derek, now. We're all just glad he's here again. We missed the little fella!" He yanked Derek into a one-armed hug, ruffling his short hair.

Derek growled, but his heart wasn't in it. He just kept his red eyed gaze trained on the forest. The moon was round and full where it rose into the darkening sky. Even Scott could feel his wolf scratching dangerously close to the surface.

And something else was there. A faint, but definite, pulsing.

_**Magic…**_

It was driving his wolf into an increasing frenzy.

And it was growing.

Deepening.

Coming from the direction of the woods…

A pull towards _something._ Or _someone._

From the nervous twitches and dazed glances beside him, Scott could tell Erica and Isaac could feel it as well.

Uncle Terry continued with his usual enthusiasm. "Now, down the road further in that direction is the Hale Estates subdivision. Great neighborhood. Course, that's for mostly the human family members. Most of the betas and alphas have pack lodges spread out in every direction, to keep the borders to the territory protected. We're at the back edge, here. And this forest along the border of all the Pack territories here is neutral. That's the Hunting grounds."

Scott and the others nodded, trying to take in the deluge of information. "And that's where the others are now? In the forest?" Scott asked, frowning at the forest that seemed to stretch on forever.

"Yep! At the very center of it all. 'Bout thirty miles away. Course, once the Nemeton gets all up inside yer heads, it'll feel like hundreds of miles and all in a damn circle. Least, that's if ya aint got yer priorities straight." He sighed happily. "I remember during the Hunt of '86, I'd only just walked in when my Lynn practically fell right into my arms. Turned right around and walked back out. Twenty-nine minutes the clock keeper said! Still the standing Hale record! But me an Lynn'll swear it weren't but five short seconds."

"So this magic tree can pretty much lead you straight to safety? To a person or out of the forest, _just like that?_" Erica asked, clearly thinking hard as she eyed the trees.

"Hah! Just like _nothing_-! Had some poor bastard from the Lee family that we had to send a search party in for two days after the Hunt ended. Swore he'd been in there for years. Complete mess, lemme tell ya. Turns out, he'd bad mouthed the Nemeton the week before. _Naw_, that tree's got all our _numbers_. Even what you don't say _aloud._"

The hum of magic grew as he spoke. Almost like the forest was feeding and building off the fear in their chests.

"Can't we just go ahead and get an early start? It's not like we want to do the Hunt-thing." Isaac whispered.

"HAHA!" Uncle Terry boomed, "The Nemeton'll kick your asses outta there before you even step on the first twig of the forest. Watch this, pups!"

Without further warning, the massive werewolf launched himself gleefully towards the trees, drawing the attention of everyone gathered around the expansive grounds.

_"Terry, don't-!"_

_"Watch out for the children-!"_

_"Oh, lord-"_

_"HEADS UP EVERYONE-!"_

The Beacon Hills group watched, fascinated as the man jumped full-bodily into the edge of the forest-

-and was caught mid-air and catapulted by an unseen force backwards and nearly fifty yards up into the sunset sky.

The bulky man looked like a ragdoll being slingshot in an high arch. "_WHOOOHOOHOOOOO_—CRASH!"

He landed out of sight on the far side of the camp. From the sounds of it- on top of several angry people that hadn't moved quickly enough.

"That guy is related to Derek…?" Isaac murmured to Scott and Erica.

"I don't give a damn who he's related to," snapped Erica, glaring at the trees. "I want to get into that forest. I WANT Boyd back. **Now.**" Her eyes glowed an intense gold.

"Me, too." Scott replied, scanning the crowd of Hales. "But it looks like we're going to have to wait it out like everyone else. Don't worry, we'll find them. All of them."

"Fucking bullshit-" Erica growled yanking her shirt over her head.

"Just play along, alright? Whatever it takes to get to the others and back here safely." Scott stripped quickly and Isaac joined them. They tried not to think about the hundred of people around them. Scott slipped into the thin clothing, frowning.

"Er, these are…_nice_." Scott tried, shifting in the tight black shorts.

"Guess it's 'clothing optional', huh," Isaac tried for humor, but failed as people everywhere began tearing off their clothing haphazardly.

"Apparently," Erica murmured, eyebrows shooting up as Derek ripped at his clothes nearby- eyes barely shifting from woods for a moment. His claws were already out, a low growl emanating from deep in his chest. "Do you think the others are going to be naked, too…? When we find them?" She looked slightly horrified at the idea.

"I seriously doubt it," Scott answered carefully.

"What about Allison?" Isaac asked, looking entirely too thoughtful. His eyes lit gold.

"_WHAT. ABOUT. ALLISON?_" Scott's snapped his teeth, inches from bursting through the surface.

Isaac darted behind Erica, "Just- you know what, she's way too classy for that! Forget I asked."

Scott growled as he stepped forward, teeth extending.

"Scott- _chill_!" Erica snapped, her own teeth gleaming as her gold eyes lit up. "It's the full moon. It's getting to us all. And that- that PULSING." She ran a clawed hand through her long blonde curls, nails catching. She snarled at her own hand, yanking it free.

A drum beat deeply in the distance.

It pounded like a hammer in Scott's head.

Then another deep thump.

And another.

…-^o^-…

_**BOOM!**_

"I've got to get to my gate," Ethan stated hurriedly, but he was slow to begin moving. His eyes stayed on Danny, the beginning of a gold glow burning in them.

Danny smiled softly at his retreating form, "Yeah. I'm going to stick with this group." Ethan's face noticeably dropped in a pathetic frown. Danny continued, "Hope to see you again though. _Very soon_."

Ethan's eyes practically blinded the small group, flashing an intense gold as his face lit back up with hope. "_Yeah…?_ Yeah. I'll- I'll be-" He waved in the direction of a distant gate, then turned and abruptly ran for it.

When Danny turned back, the others were staring. He shrugged with a smile.

_**BOOM!**_

"To your gates everyone! It's time to begin!" The hostess's voice rang out excitedly over the speaker system.

"Okay." Stiles breathed, panic beginning to set in. "So, we're all, like, gonna stick together? You know, just until we- well, I mean, I'm pretty sure an alpha werewolf can find me just fine by himself if he wants, so-"

"Stiles- it doesn't matter," Danny spoke as they all hurried for the Hale gate. "The Gate you start from is just , like, a political statement. Once we start, the Nemeton will take over."

"_What_? So, it's just gonna lead me to Mischa anyway? _What the-_"

_**BOOM!**_

Noises were beginning to drown them out. Some of the people who had opted for clothing were suddenly deciding NOT to wear them.

The sound of ripping cloth and agitated whining was rising all around the arena. Darkness was setting around them. Only the full moon overhead and the flashing eyes of supernatural creatures beginning shift pierced the heavy shadows. Someone had put out all the torches...

Stiles felt like every breath he took in was ice. He was sinking again. Sinking back into the frigid darkness of the river.

"Shit. Oh, _shit_."

_**BOOM!**_

Allison dug her nails into his arm. "Do you feel it, too?" Her face was pale, eyes wide in the moonlight.

"Yeah, Ally." Stiles croaked. "Kira? Boyd?"

"I'm beginning to REALLY re-think this!" Kira's voice was shrill as she almost shouted to be heard over wild growls and howls ripping into the night air. "Can we make a run for the inside again!? Lock ourselves in?!"

Stiles turned to see towards the shadowed stones building and enormous doors that they had been brought through. "_Maybe_-"

"**ARRHHHH-!**"

"Uh, _Boyd_…?" The other four tried to shift back, away from the form of Boyd that was quickly rearranging bones and muscle into his beta form. The crowd was packed in to closely, and they were being jostled and bumped back into each other. "_Boyd_," Stiles called, louder over the din, "you're not looking so good, buddy…"

_**BOOM!**_

"He's turning!" Allison shouted, "They're all _turning_!"

"Don't panic!" Danny yelled beside them. "It's all normal!"

"NORMAL!?" Stiles didn't need to crane his head around to look; he could HEAR the werewolves losing control around him. Even several human voices were yelling wordlessly in the madness. "_This is NOT Normal-!_"

"I feel weird!" Kira's strained voice groaned beside Stiles. He turned to her.

Her eyes were beginning to glow, a deep orange, almost red.

"FUCKFUCKSHITFUCK-" Stiles was almost knocked over as the crowd bacame a mosh pit.

"DON'T PANIC-!" Danny's voice was almost inaudible.

"HOLYFU-"

_**BOOM!**_

SILENCE

_Stiles felt as if time itself froze._

_Every muscle in his body seemed paralysed. Even his lungs couldn't take in a breath._

_All motion around him stopped as well. The entire arena was bathed in a deafening silence and locked in a moment of unmoving time._

_It felt like a terrifying three seconds before-_

SILENCE

_**BOOM!**_

Stiles gasped in delicious air as the world was suddenly a chaos of sound and motion again.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT-?!" Allison screamed to them, grabbing on to Stiles and Kira tightly as the crowd shoved them all three feet to the left, then four feet back.

"DON'T PA-" Danny started again.

"-_SHUT UP!_" Stiles, Kira and Allison shouted at him in unison.

"IT'S TIME!" The voice on the intercom announced joyfully. "ACCEPT THE NEMETON'S LIFEBLOOD AS A BLESSING TO HIDE YOUR SCENT FROM ILL-FATES AND ENEMIES THAT SEEK YOU OUT IN THE SHADOWED FOREST!"

The air suddenly became thick and wet as a mist began swirling down from the dark night sky and settling in tiny droplets on them.

_**BOOM!**_

SILENCE

_All motion and sound came to a full standstill again- EXCEPT the mist._

_It gust around them, the icy cold moisture coating them all so thickly that it began dripping from Stiles hair down into his eyes, nose, mouth. It soaked up into his thin clothes and he felt lines of it running down his calves and ankles._

_Mute and paralysed, Stiles could taste it in his mouth. Feel it slip down his throat._

SILENCE

_**BOOM!**_

Stiles swallowed before he could stop himself. He felt the chill slide all the way down his throat and inside him.

Finally free he drug his hands over his face- his eyes- trying to brush off the wetness. He glanced over at the others and saw them doing the same, except-

-except it was smearing a black liquid across them with every movement.

Lifting his head higher, towards the hundreds of shouting and pacing bodies around the arena, he saw people smearing the inky substance over their bodies. They looked like warriors donning battle paints. Faces eager and arms reaching up to try and collect more mist from the air.

"What the hell? What is this-?!" He rubbed the droplets off his forearms and the black ink appeared in the wake of his hands. The excess the dripped off his fingers landed in dark splatters against his bare skin.

"It's okay- it will protect you!" Danny called out, coating his arms and legs as he did.

"From what!?" Allison yelled, face tight as she stared at her own smeared black lines.

"Danny turned his face to them, eyes serious. "_From bad intent_," he stated ominously.

"_What_-!?"

_**BOOM!**_

SILENCE

_In the seconds (or non-seconds) that passed, Stiles' mind did backflips at Danny's words._

_At the entire situation._

_-They were surrounded by crazed werewolves._

_-Time was literally FREEZING then starting up again._

_-He was covered in gross black 'Nemeton Lifeblood' whatever the fuck that was._

_-AND they hadn't even began running in the damn forest yet!_

_All THIS for the possibility sex with a werewolf in the woods…?_

_Screw it._

_Screw ALL OF IT._

_He wanted out._

_He wanted to go home- where giant trees weren't creepy or sentient._

_He wanted his friends. His pack. His dangerous and awesome version of Normal._

_He wanted-_

SILENCE

**_BOOM!_**

"-_Derek._"

It was barely a breath of a whisper, drowned out completely by the mayhem around them.

Stiles was embarrassed as soon as the name left his mouth. He glanced around to see if any of the others could have possibly caught the faint sound.

As his eyes landed on Boyd, the young man seemed to take in a deep breath, head falling back as a deafening howl ripped out of him and rang up and into the night sky.

It was such a shock that it took several heart pounding moments to realize that the blood-curling sound wasn't just Boyd.

From every direction, all around the arena the musical tones melded into one piercing howl.

…-^o^-…

_**BOOM!**_

Derek's voice cracked as he finally felt the shift in the magic around them.

"It's time."

Scott, Erica, and Isaac looked at him, faces grim masks of fear and determination. He heard their hearts thundering.

They were scared.

He was scared, too.

No matter how hard he stared, he couldn't pierce through the shadowed forest to see Stiles.

Couldn't hear Stiles' worried heartbeat.

Couldn't see if Stiles had fear in his soft brown eyes.

_**BOOM!**_

His wolf was in a frenzy. Practically foaming at the mouth. It was shredding at his soft insides for escape. Clawing it's way up his throat to howl for his mate.

"HUNTERS! TAKE YOUR POSITIONS!" A voice rang out. Derek's eyes drifted for a scant moment in the direction of the Board members assigned to perform the Commencement at Hale territory this evening.

'**Will bathe in their blood. Will make them pay…'** His wolf's panting breaths matched his own. Fury at the Board, at Peter, at everyone for putting his mate at risk. For scaring HIS Stiles.

**'MISCHA…'**

Yes. Mischa would never live through this night.

_**BOOM!**_

To have laid his hands on what belonged to Derek. To have **touched MY MATE!**

Derek was already in place. Had been waiting at the border since the pack's arrival barely half an hour earlier.

Ready. Waiting. **HUNGRY.**

His pack took up nervous stances at his side, eyes on the forest.

More people joined them. Dozens. Maybe seventy werewolves total.

Derek could feel there breaths on his neck. Hear their thundering hearts.

_**BOOM!**_

**HIS FAMILY. HIS PACK. HE WILL HAVE HIS MATE TONIGHT. AND MISCHA'S BLOOD WILL BE SWEET LIKE WINE.**

"We're all here for you, Alpha," Uncle Terry stepped up to his side, rolling his shoulders. He was uncharacteristically somber. Face like a stone wall as he growled out, "**Durst blood will nourish the forest floor come morning."**

Derek snarled his approval.

"Jesus Christ…" Scott breathed from Derek's other side. "Can't we… just find our people and get this over with quickly.

"**NO.**" Derek stated.

The board member's voice echoed over the increasing sounds of hungry growls and anticipation.

"TAKE THE ASHES OF THE NEMETON'S FALLEN LIMBS AS A BLESSING ON YOUR JOURNEY-!"

White powder was suddenly was suddenly erupting in clumped arches high into the air over the gathered crowd of werewolves. Just as it began to sink in a massive cloud above their heads-

_**BOOM!**_

SILENCE

_All motion and sound came to a full standstill- EXCEPT the ash._

_The ash drifted and wove as if it was a sentient force. It billowed above Derek and his pack's heads, twisting and weaving through and around itself like fingers stroking through water._

_Frozen in silent time, Derek's eyes followed it's dance._

_**SOON.**_

SILENCE

_**BOOM!**_

White ash rained thickly down on everyone.

Derek sucked it in eagerly with his first free breath, sending up a prayer to the Nemeton.

**Make me swift.**

**Make me vicious.**

**Lead me to my Mate.**

"What the hell is this stuff," Isaac coughed. Beside him, Erica and Scott swatted at the dusty powder coating them all.

Derek reached his arms out, catching as much of the Nemeton's ash as he could.

**Make me fast.**

**Make me invincible.**

_**BOOM!**_

SILENCE

_**If he brought Stiles Mischa's body… If he presented it to Stiles as a victory trophy- the body of another alpha…**_

_**Would Stiles be impressed…?**_

_**Would Stiles ask him to take him, claim him right then…?**_

_In the complete and total silence of stopped time, there was a whisper that dropped softly right into Derek's ear-_

_-"Derek."_

_The wolf dug it's claws deep-_

_\- and ripped ripped out of Derek's chest and mind._

SILENCE

_**BOOM!**_

**"MISCHA WILL DIE BY MY HANDS. MY TEETH. AND STILES WILL BE MINE."**

"WHAT-?" Scott turned toward him fully, face a mix of horror and realization as his eyes glowed with fury. "You said that was…that it was a lie! **You said PETER WAS LYING-!**"

Just as Scott's own wolf surfaced, and crouched for attack, the distance sound of howling interrupted.

Like puppets on strings, every werewolf gathered at the treeline, and even those further behind gathered around the bonfires, froze and listened. Their bodies went slack, heads tilted as the howl rose and fell, making the night air vibrate.

Derek felt it in his his bones.

The sound ended on a questioning note.

A challenge.

-We're here.

-We're ready.

-Who will come to us?

-Who will stop us?

-Where are the challengers…?

Like one wolf, having one mind, and one purpose, every werewolf responded.

The howl was so loud it was impossible to separate the actual call from the ringing it provoked in the many sensitive ears of it's owners.

**WE WILL FIND YOU.**

**WE ARE COMING.**

…-^o^-…

Stiles entire body shook like a leaf as the ghostly echoes of responding howls came from every direction around them- a circle of werewolves.

Surrounded.

We're surrounded and trapped.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

For a terrifying second Stiles thought the drums had started back up at a furious pace. The howls were briefly cut-off by each pounding thump.

Then he realized, it was his own heart. His own blood rushing in his ears with each loud, terrified heartbeat.

"_Holy shit_," Allison whimpered at his side. Her trembling hand took his.

"_Yeah._" He choked out. Reaching over, he took a hold of Kira's hand. It shook, too.

…-^o^-…

In the near minute that the howl lasted, it became intertwined with the howls of all the other packs forming a circle across the many miles of forest.

A reminder.

There were others. Other challengers. Other Hunters.

**MISCHA.**

Derek's wolf lifted itself tall, shoulder back. He threw his arms out, slinging white ash off himself.

It contorted its bones with snapping force.

Made itself into something _sleek_ and _fast_.

A predator.

Everyone around him followed suit. Bones popped and snarls sounded.

Even Scott and the other betas were helpless to fight the call. Trapped in the need to rise to the challenge.

Needing to heed their inner wolves' demand and feel _the_ _Thrill of the Hunt._

…-^o^-…

_**BOOM!**_

SILENCE

_And this silence was different._

_It held every cell of the body tight._

_Poised._

_Another drum beat, but this one held no sound._

_It was the pulse of a drum, felt but not heard in the silent space between time._

_…Another beat, with no sound…_

_…Another…._

_…Another…_

_Stiles could feel it. Each drumbeat was squeezing his heart in time with the thump._

_…Another…_

_His body twitched, the hold of paralysis loosening it vise-like grip before tightening again._

_…Another…_

_Released again, more so this time, only to be caught up again._

_…Another…_

Stiles anticipated the return of muscle movement and managed to shift this time. He squeezed the girls hands_…before being trapped in his own body again._

_…Another…_

He turned his head this time, catching movement from everyone in the crowd. It lasted almost two seconds, then… trapped again.

_…Another…_

This time almost everyone in the crowd by the gate shifted to face the arch dropping low, as if preparing to run.

_Shit-_

_…trapped again-_

_…Another-_

"Fuck- get ready!" He managed to snap at the women on both side of him.

_-trapped-_

_-Another-_

Several seconds of freedom this time. Stiles, Danny, and the girls ducked into defensive stances.

_-trapped-_

**BOOOOOM-!**

—And all Hell broke loose.

...-^o^-...

I love the opening credits of the first few seasons, when the characters are either smearing black 'blood' across themselves or looking totally badass covered in white powder. Hope that's what you pictured during the whole mist/ash scene. : D


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: In case any of you made it this far without realizing it, this story has a lot of NON-CON themes (non-consensual). It's all touching/licking with minor under the clothes action. No (unwanted) intercourse or anything traumatic like that. Werewolves, you know? It's a different culture...

Enjoy!

...-^_^-...

Boyd was the first to go.

Not even a few seconds after the magical force released them, Boyd- now full-beta, began to scale the crowd ahead of them. It was less crowd-surfing and more repetitive hopping, as most people he was mindlessly climbing were smaller in size than him. His eyes were wild, the bright beams set in a determined look of mad desperation at the peek of forest beyond the gateway.

Stiles realized that Boyd was out of his mind and heavily influenced by the moon and magic that seemed to be circulating around them. He lunged to try to catch onto the hairy beta, but there was no where to hold. His hands grabbed and pinched uselessly over the the other man's smooth muscles and tight shorts. All that was left of his wasted efforts was the slightly darker sheen of the mist smeared in inky black streaks.

It was probably for the best- not managing to catch a hold of the other man; NO ONE wants to get dragged through a ferocious crowd of horny humans and werewolves BY a ferocious and horny werewolf. And Stiles wasn't especially sure Boyd would be very happy to have been slowed down.

But then, no one wants to get _trampled to death_ by a ferocious and horny crowd humans and werewolves either, so really Stiles was set up for failure, regardless…

As it was, he ended up face-planting helplessly to the ground, curling up protectively as pairs of bare feet and the occasional paw stampeded around (and ON TOP of) him. He shouted Boyd's name at the man's back in a last ditch effort to reach him, but even he knew that it wasn't going to be enough to turn the other around.

Above Stiles and the many excited faces stepping and tripping over him, the night sky became filled with bright flashes of colors and lights, like fireworks bursting around the arena.

Or more like a _war zone._

A tug on his arm, made him tentatively raise his head to see Danny and Allison being jostled roughly as they tried to shield him from the worst of the eager crowd. An explosion of light nearby almost blinded them all. It was followed by a series of pained shout and howls. The shoving bodies in that direction amplified, forcing the crowd to shift in a wave of unbalanced bodies fifteen feet to the right.

Stiles struggled to gain his feet, keeping his legs bent in a squat for better balance. Kira tucked herself quickly to his side drawing in close with Allison and Danny. Together they held tight as madness reigned out side their huddle.

Stiles straightened, using his height to try and see over the eager crowd straining for the entryway. His eyes hurt from the bright flashes of light bursting randomly in the darkness. He blinked rapidly, searching.

Boyd was long gone.

Not even the occasional sight of his tall shoulders in the crowd shoving their way through the narrow gate opening less than forty feet ahead.

Gone.

And that was that.

Not even a thought spared for his friends who were in ACTUAL danger of being trampled to death.

Just a ferocious roar, a couple of angry swipes at the people who attempted to slow his progress…

…_then there were four._

"Didn't the pamphlets say no weapons!?" Kira shouted, all of them circled tightly around each other for safety as the crowd surged, "I figured that included FLAME-THROWERS!" Her pale hands moved as she fumbled in her sports bra and pulled something out. Stiles dipped his head closer as she unfolded…a crumpled pamphlet.

Stiles was actually impressed that she's thought to keep one. At this particular moment in his life, he had NEVER regretted failing to read an informational packet more. Not that it could help them much now- not unless their was a very short and succinct section in bright glowing print titled: 'How to Survive In the Middle of a Mob'.

"_I think it's a little late for that-!_" Stiles suggested. Kira's glowing eyes met his, clearly at a loss.

"IT'S OKAY! IT'S JUST MAGIC-!" Danny tried to call over to her from across their huddle, as they were all shoved hard to the left, "SORCERERS AND WITCHES-"

A jolt shocked the air around them.

"-AND OTHER STUFF!" He finished with a wince.

"AND I CAN'T HAVE A FUCKING _PIE-SLICER!?_" Allison glared at Stiles, who just threw his hands up helplessly.

Very abruptly, a person tripped past Stiles' left side and into the middle of their tight circle, rolling on the ground between them all. The naked man seemed momentarily stunned, which gave them all a chance to stare dumbfounded at the red flames ghosting in circles around his unburnt hands, which were clutched tightly to his chest. He recovered quickly, mouthing the words, '_my bad_' to the group with a cheerful smile. Then, he darted back out of their circle between Allison and Danny, who moved helpfully out of his way.

"JUST STAY TOGETHER-!" Stiles yelled as loud as he could, the roar and sounds of madness surrounding them drowning him out. The bodies pushing them from all sides seemed to be moving AWAY from the gate entry instead of towards it.

From the amount of flashing and shrieks, it sounded as if a brawl (or small supernatural war) had broken out in the front.

But, Stiles had a firm grip on the girls' hands- holding them tight at his sides. And he would KEEP ahold of those hands like his life depended on-

"SHIT!" A sharp jerk of his arm nearly took all four of the friends down. Only Danny's strong hands reaching across from his spot and catching Stiles' shoulder prevented him from another trampling episode. Allison's hand was yanked from his with a second jerk.

"ALLISON-!"

She went down, a massive beta wolf dragging her to the ground as the crowd barely managed to part for them.

Stiles dove in their direction, still attached to Kira and Danny. But, the few members of the crowd that DID have the sense and courtesy to avoid stomping over the pair, were rerouted between her and Stiles. The swell of bodies pushed him back, and blocked their view of her.

She probably screamed, not that it could be heard in all the chaos.

Cursed, at least, knowing Allison.

Stiles and Kira were being dragged further from her position with the flow of excited bodies towards the gate. He fought to shove his way back to save her, even swinging his free fist blindly at the crazed faces trying to push him further away.

Battling to stay at their side, Danny was desperately trying to say something, his hands gesturing to his nose. "_OKAY! JUST-SMELL!_"

Stiles mouthed the words '_What the Fuck?_' at Danny as he continued trying to desperately clear a path back to Allison.

"SMELL!" Was all Stiles could make out from Danny.

It was hard to see the ground, better yet Allison's body wrestling to dislodge the werewolf, but even from his poor vantage point in the midst of the throng he could tell she wasn't having much luck.

Then the werewolf on Allison was suddenly OFF of Allison.

A blur of fury bodies indicated that a second werewolf had had tackled the first. The crowd shifted, those who could see the bloody fight attempting to steer clear, but the rest not realizing the danger.

Stiles could barely breath from the strain of edging closer to Allison's recovering form while yanking Kira along. She seemed stunned, but unharmed in what little light there was, staring confusedly at the snarling forms wrestling nearby.

She moved to stand, eyes searching and finding Stiles' in the chaos of darkness and bursting lights.

And without warning, she went down a second time. By ANOTHER werewolf.

At almost the same time, something hit Stiles' from behind, knocking his breath out and rattling his brain.

…-O_O-…

As soon as his muscles clenched, putting him back in control of his body, Derek ran.

I**t has BEGUN.**

**MINE.**

**MINE.**

**STILES-!**

Somewhere deep in his wolf's mind, his human consciousness made a push for calm and sanity.

The wolf buried his human side deeper. It flailed weakly, then nothing.

**MY MATE.**

**(You failed to claim him.)**

**MY STILES.**

**(You will not interfere this night.)**

**MINE-!**

He heard the others moving fast just behind him. Could sense the different presence of his pack.

Scott was on his tail, heavy panting breaths indicating that he was in his beta form and moving swiftly between two legs and four.

Isaac was close to his side, and Erica-

-Erica flew past Derek in a blur of blond, darting into the shadows of the trees several steps ahead of him.

His wolf chaffed at being outrun, but it bit back it's growl.

**Not a threat.**

**Not after my mate.**

**My Stiles-**

He met the tree line and passed through into the shaded darkness, eyes adjusting to the grey tones of night easily.

His canine body lunged past the high bushes and growths eagerly, but a discordant sensation had him digging in his heels and skidding to a stop.

His head snapped back, in the direction of the Hale Mansion.

His pack- all except for Scott, Isaac and Erica- were ricocheting off the Nemeton's invisible barrier.

It was unheard of-

Isaac and Scott tore past him- unseeing and and at the single-minded mercy of their own wolves.

They heard the call of their own mates. They would be of no help to him.

His wolf snapped it's head back violently to howl his fury into the night air. It cut through the sounds of the forest and carried for miles, declaring his rage at the Nemeton for this act of interference.

As his howl died down, it turned to a snarl.

Very well.

He would single-handedly shred the flesh of any who kept him from his mate.

He didn't require a pack to kill Misha Durst.

He turned from the confused and alarmed faces of his remaining pack at the border, and launched himself into the maze of forest.

…-O_O-…

It took a moment to blink away the stars and suck in air. Someone stepped on his leg, then his shoulder. He curled tight, catching his breath and trying to avoid more stomping feet. When he was able to think clearly again, he shoved furiously at the legs around him, the taste of dirt in his mouth.

He'd lost Kira.

Her hand had slipped his during his brief blackout. He thought he could hear her shouting, but couldn't tell which direction.

Turning and struggling against the mostly naked bodies of the crowd, Stiles spotted what had collided into them.

A massive light-haired wolf was blanketed over Danny, panting heavily and swiping it's sharp claws warningly at the passing figures (who apparently DID have the courtesy to steer clear of an alpha.)

"Danny-!"

Stiles elbow-checked a beta wolf punched blindly at more people (including at least one human looking woman- whoops, not telling anyone about that if he survives). It felt like it took an eternity to force his exhausted body over to Danny's prone form less than ten feet away.

"DANNY! I'M COMING-!"

He was just close enough to be heard through the deafening howls and screams. Danny's head tilted back and to the left, eyes finally landing on Stiles. His mouth opened, trying to shout something as his right hand lifted just high enough to wave.

"I'M COMING- HOLD ON!" Stiles repeated, jumping to literally climb his way over several angry people. One of them grabbed his leg and tried to yank him off their shoulder, but Stiles brought his knee up to- _shit!_\- HER nose and continued scrabbling over her until he flip down her pale back. (Wow- he was NOT making his dad proud tonight…)

He landed with a painful grunt on the ground just beside Danny-

-AND the alpha on top of him.

Stiles froze from where he was just lifting his twisted limbs from underneath him.

The alpha's red eyed flared, a tight sounding growl making Stiles' heart stutter.

Their heads were barely a foot apart, eyes locked.

"T- Than-!" Danny's mouth moved, but Stiles couldn't make out the words from the corner of his eyes.

Stiles sucked in a breath, carefully shifting his wide eyes to Danny without moving his head.

"IT'S-ETHAN-!" Danny's voice managed to cut through the noise. Stiles watched as Danny ran both hands gently through the wolf's- Ethan's- fluffy mane and up to the lowered ears. "PROTECTING-ME-!"

"OH!" Stiles shouted, nodding his head exaggeratedly. "GOOD. OUR -FRIEND- ETHAN-!" He kept nodding because he REALLY wanted wolfed-out Ethan to see that he understood (_and to PLEASE STOP growling at him_.)

"WE'RE OKAY-! FIND-" some unfortunate bastard tripped onto Danny and the alpha, causing the wolf to snap twice in the vicinity of his jugular. The man immediately flung himself off and away in a blur of survival-fueled terror- "THE GIRLS AND GO WITHOUT ME!" Danny finished patiently.

Then he gave Stiles a_ fucking thumbs-up._

In the middle of a hoard of sex-crazed werewolves and (arguably crazier) humans, with an ALPHA laid out over him like a blanket to stop the insane heard from crushing him underfoot, _Danny-fucking-Mahealani_ was giving him a _goddamn thumbs-up sign._

THIS was NOT a THUMBS-UP situation.

Stiles gave him his most epic bitch face ever, in lieu of more shouting.

Danny shrugged, or did as best he could under the circumstances. And smiled apologetically.

Stiles cranked his bitch-face up to max.

The alpha, Ethan, kept his red glare sharply on Stiles' as he bent his muzzle down to Danny's face-

_-and licked a long stripe from his chin to the tip of his nose._

"ALRIGHT! I GET IT!" Stiles yelled hoarsely, dragging himself to his feet. "You know it's beastiality if he doesn't shift back! _Just sayin'_!"

Danny rolled his eyes, but turned his attention to the alpha. Ethan rubbed his furry head and muzzle excitedly under Danny's chin, huffing happily.

Stiles rolled his whole head exaggeratedly, and turned away from the happy couple, gearing himself up to face the chaos around him again.

_And then there were three,_ he muttered under his breath.

The crowd was finally thinning out around him and he had a better view of the Hale gateway. The darkness made it difficult to see faces clearly- the moonlight bathing everything in a soft blue and white, with the less occasional flashes still flaring up from various other gates across the darkened expanse of the arena.

Stiles searched for the Hostess and the large stage, but it was gone. Everything was gone, in fact- all the booths and tables and buffet and workers. There was no trace of them. Just the stony wall of the building he'd entered from, and the massive wood doors shut tightly.

People were still scattered everywhere, running and darting back and forth under the faint moonlight. Some were fighting and struggling, others were laid out on the ground- ugh, not fighting each other. Stiles forced his eyes not to look too closely at the moving pairs of naked flesh.

It was actually incredible to just watch the shit happening all around him.

One chick shot a fucking fireball at a… were-_panther_(?) charging her. The huge cat scrambled to roll until the smoking flames disappeared.

Even more bursts had Stiles turning his wide eyes to see a beta-wolf being launched by blue light into the ait about forty feet. He landed near a group of people who were teaming up to rush for a nearby gate. One of THEM did something with their hands that Stiles couldn't see in the darkness, but the beta-wolf was suddenly skidding as if dragged far away from the group.

Between all this craziness (and much more that Stiles couldn't even process at the moment), were naked figures just running around seemingly pointlessly. Not even heading for any gate to get out to the forest and start the Hunt.

One of the running people passing by Stiles slowed down and back-tracked. "Hey handsome, want to have some fun?" Stiles turned to stare in horror at the middle-aged naked woman who was grinning down at him.

"_Wha- No_!"

"'Kay, Hon!" And she picked back up her light jogging, breasts bouncing as she seemed to aim herself at another lone figure picking themself up off the ground further away.

Stiles gaped after her, blinking. _Wow_.

The loud voices and noises were finally dying down, which is why Stiles HEARD Kira before he actually saw her.

Her voice was pitched near-hysterical. "YOU LICK ME ONE MORE TIME AND I SWEAR-" There was a faint sound like someone choked, then a desperate sort of gasping and whimpering.

Stiles ran for the voice, jumping and dodging various piles of people and forms spread out on the ground. He felt like he was in the adult supernatural version of Frogger; dodge the pair of fighting werewolves, duck the flying body, jump over the couple HAVING SEX RIGHT THERE ON THE GROUND LIKE HEATHENS.

"Oh, my God- what is wrong with these PEOPLE!?" Stiles complained quietly to universe, as he tactically avoided ANOTHER pair on the ground enthusiastically humping each other.

The sounds of choking was coming from a beta wolf wheezing on all four on the ground, but there was no sign of Kira near him. Stiles stumbled to a halt, and shouted, "Kira! Where'd yo-"

The world tilted and flipped as Stiles was abruptly tackled at the waist.

Instinctively, he brought his knees up, wedging them between himself and his attacker.

An unhappy snarl rumbled from the hairy form pinning him down, the muzzle dropping close enough to his left ear that he could feel the hot breath.

Then, he was being… _sniffed._

_Invasively._

"_What the fuck, dude?_" Stiles groaned out, offended.

"HEY-! Get outta there!" Stiles shrieked, smacking embarrassedly at the head stretching to fit into his shirt. The intruder's response was a few annoyed snorts, then-

-THEN Stiles felt the VERY distinct sensation of a tongue liking his nipple.

"OHMYGOD! OUT-OUT-OUT!"

Stiles began slamming his hands repeatedly against the side of the werewolf's head. The many various contents of his wrist band making solid contact with the man's skull.

Something inside the wristband was vibrating, the humming cutting off then on with each violent strike.

God, Stiles was ACTUALLY defending his virtue with an vibrating _anal plug_…

"OFF! NOW!" Stiles swung at the man, arms growing weak from the struggle. He started sliding his butt across the ground, trying to get it AWAY from the sniffing nose of the creature. The werewolf whined and stuck his nose into Stiles' armpit.

An angry war cry was the only warning Stiles had before Kira was suddenly on the werewolf's bare back, arms tight around his neck in an impressive chokehold.

Which would have been more effective if she wasn't a third the size and weight of the werewolf. But it was a distraction- and Stiles used it.

Stiles dragged his lower body out from under the werewolf as the stranger swung left and right in confusion, trying to dislodge Kira. Once both feet were free, Stiles took up a sturdy stance, extended his right leg back, aimed, and kicked the struggling werewolf as hard as possible in the crotch.

The lack of sound the creature made was actually worse than a shout of pain, but Stiles refused to feel bad. Mostly. He still gave a sympathy wince for the entire male gender.

As the man toppled over in paralyzed pain, Kira released her hold and rolled off his back onto the ground, gasping for breath.

Stiles dropped beside her for a few seconds, just enough to catch his own breath (and try to stop shaking). After the brief pause, he rose again, pulling Kira gently on her shoulder. "We, _huff_, we need to go!" He indicated the werewolf heaving to their left. "Gotta find Allison, _huff_!"

Kira winced, but nodded, rolling tiredly onto her side. Stiles helped her stand. "Stiles?"

"Un-huh?"

"Why are you _buzzing_?" She gave him a confused look as she wiped strands of messy hair from her sweaty forehead.

He fumbled at his wrist band smacking it impatiently to try and get it to turn off. "Don't worry about it. You okay?" He asked as she groaned and rubbed her arms.

"I-I think so?" They began a quick pace to just generally get AWAY from the recovering beta.

"I got tackled, _huff_, EIGHT times." She tilted her head back, moaning, "Got _sniffed_! AND _licked_! One of 'em even dry humped me a little. I think it was SHE. Huff! Stilleeessss, this _sucksss_."

"Did they hurt you?! Are hurt?!" Stiles paused, pulling them both down in a squat to try and look her over for injuries. All he could see in the faint moonlight was dark smears from the mist. Any of it could've been blood in the pale moonlight.

"I'm fine. They-" Kira rubbed at her neck, irritably, "They just kept _smelling_ me and stuff! Then, after, like, a minute they left. I don't think they wanted to hurt me." She looked dazed and a little disgusted. "What about you? Are you hurt?"

"Uh, no. I got taken down by one dude, but I guess he just wanted to smell me, too. And Ethan got Danny, but he was, uh-" Stiles stuttered, "_Cool with it_, I guess." Stiles' mind was reeling way too fast to put together a coherent explanation, but he tried for simplest explanation anyway. "Guess we didn't smell interested in them, huh? Hurt their egos."

He started snorting with laughter, but cut himself off quickly. Yep, he was losing his shit.

Kira just blinked her horrified orange eyes at him like he'd finally snapped.

"I _know_. I _know_! I'm just freaked out. Let's- let's try to find Ally and regroup, okay?" Stiles was already squinting in the darkness, trying to BEGIN to guess which shadowed form across the huge expanse of the arena could be Allison's. "She couldn't have gotten too far from our gate."

"I think-" Kira began, tilting her head as she squinted her bright orange eyes, "I think she's over there-" Kira's pale arm was raised, finger pointing inward, in the direction of the center of the arena, and the Nemeton. It was was over a hundred yards away- way too far for his eyes to make out anything but darkness.

Stiles was already moving as he asked, "How can you see her? I can't see shit out here!" The majority of the flashing had died down, along with the shouts and howls. Most of the remaining people spread out around them, seemed to either be slowly making their way to the gates, or-

-well…_not trying to make there way to the gates._ Stiles grimaced as he and Kira hurried past dozens of pairs of moaning couples and undulating forms twisted together.

Kira hurried along beside him, dipping and dodging around people laying and sitting on the ground. "Don't know! Everything's kind of glowing and smoky. Ugh-! I can see EVERYTHING- it's horrible. Is that weird? That's totally weird, right? Oh my God."

"No, well, yeah. But, uh," Stiles hesitated, but continued his hurried pace, "But your eyes have been doing some, uh, _glowing_ since this started. FYI."

"Huh. Okay." Kira rasped, "That's new. Kind of like the werewolves'?"

"Yeah, sort of, but more- _UMPHH-!_"

Stiles bellyflopped, getting a face full of dirt as a heavy body dropped heavily on top of him from behind.

"_Pthut-!_" He spat, "SERIOUSLY!?"

ANOTHER cold, wet nose was accosting his neck, this time from behind. The sounds of Kira angrily shouting and smacking meaty muscle came from above them.

"_EAYYAH-!_" Kira suddenly squeaked, followed by the sound of thudding on the ground nearby.

"KIRA!?"

"_Nineee_!" Came Kira's exasperated voice.

"Just hang on-!" Stiles shouted into the ground as he tried to raise himself and the weight of his attacker off the ground. "WHOAH! HANDS! HANDS-!" Stiles dropped heavily back onto his stomach, trying to wrestle blindly at the hand squeezing his ass. The other arm was wrapped around his chest, holding him in place.

The sniffing made it all the way down to under his armpit, before stopping. The werewolf made a displeased sound, huffing with annoyance.

And Stiles was suddenly released (_very ungraciously,_ he might add).

He lifted himself, raising his head in time to see the naked beta-wolf who had tackled him jogging away towards another moving figure nearby without a glance back.

_Just like that._

Stiles found himself to be VERY offended.

It was dumb. And completely irrational. But, his brain was beginning to work again, and it was insisting that he had just been snubbed.

_No fucking loyalty._

"NO- ABOVE THE WAIST ONLY!"

Stiles whipped his head around to see Kira sprawled out on the ground nearby, pulling roughly at the long hair of a female werewolf.

"NO MEANS NO!" Stiles shouted angrily, getting a running start to kick the sex-crazed werewolf's hairy head. The she-wolf roared angrily, shaking her head as if concussed. Unsure what to do now that he had officially pissed off (ANOTHER) werewolf, Stiles grabbed Kira by her arms, half-dragging her away.

"You know," He shouted conversationally to Kira as she caught her feet and begin running alongside him, "Normally werewolves, _gasp_, try to kill and eat people, _gasp,_ during the full-moon, _huff_, so this actually, _huff_, a kind of improvement!"

"Good to know!" Kira gasped, pointing ahead. "I can definitely see her now-!"

"ALLISON-!?" Stiles yelled almost hysterically, throat burning as they drew closer to the ominous looking tree.

"STILES-?!"

Allison's strained voice came from just ahead, in the deeper shadows under the massive Nemeton. The huge fanning branches blocked out the moonlight, making it nearly impossible to see her. He stumbled, foot catching on upraised root. Kira caught his arm.

"Ally, are you okay?!" He asked worriedly.

"Yeah," He spotted her, sitting on the mangled roots in the darkness. "Just needed to catch my breath a minute," she explained between labored gasps. "Kept getting jumped. One of them tried to throw me over his shoulder and run. It's cool, though. Guess all the werewolves are trying to sniff out willing partners or something. I'm thinking we really should have read the fucking pamphlet." She waved her hand and something metallic flashed in the pale light.

"Yeah, turns out," Stiles sighed, "Still got that pie-slicer, huh?"

"_Shut up, Stiles_," She groaned warningly.

"No, no! Keep it. _Please._ Wish I'd grabbed a kitchen utensil, myself." He waved his hand dismissively, glancing nervously around the darkness.

As they tried to catch their breath in the growing silence, Allison lifted her head, confused. "What is that _buzzing sound_…?"

Stiles moaned angrily, then bent down to the nearest tree root and bashed his wristband against it as hard as he could.

The humming stopped abruptly.

Stiles chest heaved as he sucked in deep breaths. "We haven't even left the fucking arena yet and I'm already a hundred percent done with all of this. Every part of my body _hurts_. I'm _bruised_. I'm _exhausted_. We don't have _magic_-! We don't have _claws_ and _fangs_-! We don't have SHIT. We are NOT cut out for this! I say we fucking hide here, under this creepy-ass tree, until morning."

"Seconded. Times, like, _a thousand_," Allison groaned, rubbing at her legs gingerly.

"_Um. Guys…_" Kira began.

Stiles' guard immediately went up. "God. What? What _now!?_" He snapped his head blindly from left to right, searching the deep shadows.

"The, uh, the arena is…_gone_."

Stiles was already turning away from the trunk of the massive tree as the question spilled from his lips, "_What-!?_"

Even with his limited vision, Stiles could tell that the high walls that had enclosed the large arena were no longer there. They were in a dark, overgrown meadow. Alone.

"Where…? Where is EVERYTHING? And all the _people_-? _What-?!_" Stiles stumbled over the tree roots and rocks, with Allison and Kira following behind.

"Okay. I am _soooo confused_ right now," Allison mumbled. They stepped out from under the heavy branches of the tree, their voices floating in the eerie silence of the empty night air.

"We didn't _leave_. I KNOW we didn't _leave_." Kira whispered. "We went into the arena's center. The tree was definitely at the CENTER."

"What does this mean?" Stiles asked, keeping his voice low as he gestured in the distance, "We- we didn't even go through the damn _gate_…"

"You don't think…" Allison started, eyes wide, "…the magic tree _heard us_…?"

Stiles turned as he spoke, "You think the TREE kicked us ou -_AARRGGGHHH!_" Stiles flew backwards, scrabbling across the ground.

He was joined by Allison and Kira, who also screamed and flew away from the two massive stone gates that had appeared behind them.

"_WHO PUT THOSE THERE-?!_" Kira gasped, stomping her feet. "_Ugh_, I really can't handle anymore surprises!" She dropped weakly to the ground beside Stiles.

The huge tree was gone, with no sign at all that it had ever existed in the undisturbed silence of the clearing. In it's place were the two looming frames of the Hale and Durst gates, standing ominously side-by-side.

"Guess we're not _allowed_ to quit," Allison stated hollowly where she stood by Stiles.

"I think you may be right…" Stiles agreed numbly, blinking at the two huge entryways.

After a few more moments of stunned silence with the two gates towering above them, Allison quietly asked, "So, Stiles, _which one_?"

At Stiles blank look, she continued, "Pretty sure they're both here to give you an option."

Stiles cringed, already thinking the same thing. Defensively, he argued, "C'mon, Ally. We can see through them. They both lead to the exact same side of the same meadow. Not like it actually matters…_right?_"

"I have a feeling it REALLY does." She answered lowly.

"…_Yeah_." Stiles was quick to rescind, "Yeah. It definitely does, doesn't it? _Damn it_."

He glanced from one stoned gate to the other, eyes roaming over the the two distinctly different symbols carved into the top of the arches.

_Derek Hale…?_

_Or Misha Durst…?_

_Back home, to Beacon Hills and obscurity…?_

_Or to someone who wanted him, and a chance at something new and better…?_

_…Derek…_

_…or sex…_

"Stiles…?" Allison's voice was gentle.

"It's a tough decision, alright?" He groaned a sigh, eyes darting back and forth.

_How much influence could this magic tree ACTUALLY have?_

_It's not like he couldn't just change his mind later, right?_

"**Stiles.**"

The voice was quick, deep, and filled with exasperation.

Stiles turned sharply, but he knew it hadn't come from either of the girls.

He swallowed thickly, turning back to the gate.

_Derek._

…-O_O-…

The Wolf felt the whisper of his name more than heard it.

The faint call seemed to echo around the forest, bouncing off the trees as if they were repeating it mockingly at him.

The Wolf rumbled a threat at them, ears perked.

**STILES?**

**WHERE IS STILES?**

**WHERE IS MY MATE-**

…-O_O-…

The image of Derek rolling his blue eyes, and settling a look of annoyance on Stiles flashed across his vision. It had happened so many times that Stiles now had every small flutter of facial muscle committed to memory.

Right down to the soft hint of a smile that was always just barely held back.

_That same smile Stiles had been trying to get to crack for years now._

_He was close. He'd been working at it. He'd worked DAMN HARD at it, in fact._

_He was going to make it happen. And it was going to be…_

_…Glorious._

A small bubble of warmth erupted in Stiles chest.

_Nearly four years trying to get ONE man to smile at him._

_It should have been a depressing thought…_

_Shit._

_Oh, shit._

_When did I get a crush on Derek-fucking-Hale…?_

Stiles groaned into his hands, miserable.

_He could have actual, wonderful sex with a super-hot Alpha…_

_…but, DEREK was trying to save him. Derek had come rescue Stiles._

_It was pretty fucking romantic, really. Sort of. Like, a lot._

His heart fluttered stupidly.

_More romantic than hot forest sex with a stranger, apparently._

_Ugh,_ Stiles groaned, _I'm really gonna regret this on my deathbed, when I die a fucking ninety year old virgin…_

"Okay," Stiles voice broke the silence, "I'm good. Let's…let's go."

He turned back to the girls, reaching out for their hands.

Gripping them tightly, he moved to stand in front of the Hale Gate.

Allison squeezed his hand, smiling softly.

Stiles returned the smile, trying to ignore that uncomfortable warmth inside him.

_It was there now. Out and in the open where he wasn't going to be able to lie to himself anymore._

_He had the world's biggest, stupidest crush. On a surly, unsociable werewolf who was totally not into him at all._

_Derek..._

…-O_O-…

He had been waiting for it this time-

-paused like a cat patiently stalking pray.

His ears twitched, head jerking in the direction of the faint sound of his name.

His eyes settled in the direction, feeling the prickle of magic.

There.

So close.

**MINE-**

…-O_O-…

"Any chance maybe we're just gonna walk through and step out on the actual other side of the gate?" Kira asked worriedly as she eyes the seemingly normal looking far side of the gate.

"_Doubt it,_" Stiles and Allison answered solemnly.

"_Dang_." Kira breathed.

Taking a deep breath, as one, the three stepped through.

"…"

"Huh. Well. That was… _anti-climactic._" Allison finally stated, as they all turned to look at the BACK of the Hale gate.

"I am _REALLY_ starting to dislike this fucking Nemeton-thing." Stiles ground out, glaring at the seemlessly endless forest surrounding them.

"So, we just…start _walking_?" Allison stared skeptically at the woods.

Stiles and Kira glanced at each other, then at Allison.

"It's just a magic forest," Stiles tried to sound confident, and definitely fell short. "And it's just for one night. A few hours. At least, until the rest of the pack finds us. We can totally do this."

...O_O...

A/N: I post this story on Archive of Our Own (AO3) as well as this one. Personally, I'm a fan of AO3 more than this one, just because I can add art, GIFs and audio recording to it. Plus, I post there first every time I update. So, if any of you want to swing over there, you can find me under the same name and the same work titles.

I'm also on tumblr now under aleandriseige . tumblr . com

And as always, thank you all for the wonderful Reviews and Likes!


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles was silent.

Even his breathing was barely a whisper on the wind. But, of course, it could still hear him.

It could probably hear the beating of his steadily thumping heart, even from this distance.

But Stiles didn't need to be invisible. He just needed to lure the creature into a false sense of security. Just enough so that it would show more than a flash of it's tawny brown fur and yellow eyes.

Just enough so that Kira and Allison will _finally_ believe that the mysterious wolf WAS following them. Had BEEN following them.

The sly bastard (bastardette?) had managed to trail them since they started their trek though the forest. But Stiles had spotted their silent stalker almost immediately.

Now, he just needed it to slip up enough for the girls to see…

"Stiles," Kira sighed, her voice shockingly loud in the silence, "There is NOTHING out there. I'm telling you, I can see for almost a half mile- _we're alone._"

"_Shhh_-!" Stiles hissed irritably. "It's there. I know it is."

Rubbing his strained eyes, Stiles gave up (for now) stood from his spot in the bushes bordering their temporary camp. He lifted his bat and moved with practiced caution on bare feet towards the fire crackling nearby. The weight of the carved wood felt comforting as he rolled the worn handle in his hand.

Three feet of roughly-carved Mountain Ash wood- his new favorite weapon of choice.

He approached the stooped figure in the middle of the camp with hesitation. "We've been here too long," Allison muttered grimly, eyes lit by the dwindling fire. "We'll need to move out soon."

"Yeah," Stiles answered, watching her carefully. "And you, uh, you're still hearing the, um…?"

"Yeah, I can still hear someone being hurt." She snapped warningly. "You still see your imaginary wolf-friend?"

Stiles winced. "Right. _Okay_. Yeah, let's roll out. No sense waiting for the next baddy to find us."

The three friends were ready within seconds. It was easy when you had practically nothing to pack up.

Bat? _Check_.

Wristband? _Check._

Two badass female friends? _Double check._

Inventory complete. Ready to move out.

No one complained. No one asked questions like, "_Where to_" or "_How much further_". They had stopped bothering after the first week.

Now, there was only the constant forward progression of time as they moved through the seemingly endless nighttime forest.

At least, Stiles hoped it WAS a _progression_. They couldn't even be sure of that much. They could've be wandering around in the same mile of woods for all they knew.

"Alright, huddle." Stiles faced the two women as Kira dug the worn out pamphlet from her bra. "Let's call it."

"Okay, last mark was made after the red-headed werecoyote attack. After that we've had… the three horny werewolves, eight humans, two, uh… what did we agree to call the lizard ones?"

"_Kanima cousins_," both Allison and Stiles responded promptly.

"Right. Two of those, sequentially, and the group of three _vampires_."

At the mention of the vampires, they all cringed. Stiles rubbed his arm almost unconsiously where it had been broken when he'd fallen the forty feet out of the air.

NOT a fun experience. First time meeting vampires-_ God willing, the last._

Of course, his arm had only stayed broken for a little while. Shout out to the Nemeton for that. Probably the ONLY shout out the Nemeton was gonna be getting from him would be the relatve speed of medical attention. And they had needed A LOT since the Hunt began.

"Okay," Stiles hummed, "They all happened pretty consecutively, I'd say only a couple hours between each. Shortest fight is always the werewolves. Just a little sniffing and dry humping. Longest DEFINITELY the fucking vampires. That was at least three hours- counting the time spent treading water in the river to make a plan." Stiles did some fast mental math. "I'm gonna vote that it's been three days- so 72 hours-ish."

Kira nodded, but Allison was frowning tightly.

"I think the Phil took up at least nine hours." She made a face, at the memory. Stiles was already nodding in agreement.

"_Shit_. Yeah, our buddy, Phil was just recently, huh? God, it's hard to remember who was when. Poor dude."

"You left him concussed and tied to a tree…" Kira reminded him.

"For his- AND EVERYONE'S- safety!" Stiles defended.

The human, Phil, had been one of the most affected people that had crossed their path since the hunt started. Covered only in mud and tree leaves ' for camoflauge' as he had insisted, the man had been _every brand of INSANE_. He'd sworn that he had been in the forest for over two years AND that they were all figments of his imagination.

That he needed to _personally kill-_

-with his sharpened _spear_-

-To appease the Nemeton and earn its _forgiveness_-

-Because he had VERY UNWISELY threatened to burn down during his first few stressful days of the Hunt.

Phil had been a very good lesson for the group. Do NOT piss off the magic tree that was in charge of Space and Time.

Funnily enough, the first time the group had FINALLY stopped and sat down to read through the pamphlet (around the third 24-hour span when it seemed way too weird that no one needed to pee), angering the Nemeton was 'Item of Concern Number 1'. In Big, Bold lettering.

**The Nemeton is an ageless, sentient magical force that made it's home in the tree bearing it's name. Do NOT threaten or insult it. It WILL know.**

Stiles had a VERY difficult time not fucking that up. It was pretty clear almost immediately that their group was at the mercy of the magical tree. And even if it was described as _ageless_, mentally Stiles would put it at the age of a _super-bratty seven year old._ Like, someone really needed to spank it's petulant butt. He was 100% sure that the Nemeton knew he didn't like it, and was intentionally tripping him with random roots and shit.

_It was definitely laughing at his suffering…_

"Okay, so Phil was _at least_ nine hours of crazy homicidalness," Stiles sighed, forcing his thoughts to the present, "So, let's say about three and half days since the last check-in."

Allison and Kira nodded in agreement, and Kira used a fine-edged twig with dark mud from the ground to scratch the tac marks on the bottom edge of the pamphlet paper.

"That puts us at," she counted quickly, her glowing eyes moving over the MANY sets of five dashes, "twenty-seven days."

The group was silent, taking it in.

_Twenty-fucking-seven days_ of walking - and more often running- through the nightime forest, blindly and aimlessly.

_Twenty-fucking seven days_ of werewolves, werecats, wizards, lizards, magic booby-traps, one tentacled lake monster with abandonment issues, a tree that ATE Kira, humans half (and in Phil's case- completely) out of their minds, every possible type of shapeshifter and supernatural creature, a tiny fucking malevolent fairy that Stiles had to trap in the battery container of his anal plug and toss into river, and now most recently— vivid hallucinations.

_No wonder Phil lost his shit._

Plus, now Kira was beginning to…_spark._

Mostly when she was anxious or they were in a nasty fight, but still, shooting blue sparks of electricity was probably even worse than Allison's crying voice and Stiles (apparently imaginary/but totally not) wolf-stalker COMBINED.

It was Stiles that finally broke the grim silence.

"I am going to _kill_ Derek." He stated matter of factly in a calm voice.

"I'm not sure this is really his fault, Stiles…" Allison tried.

"No." There was a twinge of crazy edging his tone now, "No, this is TOTALLY his fucking fault. HE was supposed to be rescuing us. HE was the reason you and me got sucked into this in the first place! All because Peter's dumbass wanted to drag HIM out here for…for, I don't know- _fucking politics_. Where the hell is he? I stepped through his fucking family gate- so why are we running around in circles for _twenty-seven god damn days_ waiting on him to find us?!"

Stiles was breathing furiously as he ended his rant. Allison looked defeated, clearly not willing to argue any further.

"…_I'm glad you guys are here,_" Kira spoke softly, a spark shooting out of her limp hand like sad confetti.

Stiles flinched. "Yeah. _Geez._" He ran an nervous hand over his face. "Sorry, Kira. I'm glad you're not out here on your own, too. I mean, _obviously. Fuck_." He rolled his bat awkwardy in his right hand, resisting the urge to beat himself with it as an apology.

She smiled sadly, and Stiles felt like a massive dick.

"Okay. No sense regretting shit now." Stiles shook off his bad mood, "Let's just get moving, alright? I don't think after twenty-seven days, either of you suddenly need to use the bathroom, eat or maybe sleep?"

The girls shook their heads.

"Right, me neither. I _am_ a little grungy and banged up from our last fight. Everyone up for a dip?"

Stiles night vision had sharpened after the first few '_nights_' and he could see the dirt covering the girls' pale arms and legs. Kira was able to heal, but he was sure Allison's feet were as scraped up and aching his own. God, humanity had really hot the jackpot when they invented shoes. Fuck _sliced-bread_. He was never going to take his crappy converse for granted again…

The girls nodded to him, and Kira folded and tucked the worn pamphlet securely back into her bra. They all three moved closer to each other, taking deep breaths.

Once Stiles felt like they were all ready, he stated in a loud, over-dramatic voice, "_Gosh, I sure feel tired and achey and dirt_-"

And then they were suddenly NOT standing on solid ground anymore.

Ice water flooded into Stiles' nose and mouth as he sank into the inky blackness of oblivion. It would have been just as terrifying as the first time, in the river by the arena castle/fortress all those weeks ago, but now it was actually borderline tedious.

_He waited in that frigid and deathlike place, not bothering to even kick as he sank deeper-_

_-and deeper._

_His body went numb as the cold sank into every cell. He could almost imagine all his bumps and scrapes healing themselves all over his paralyzed body._

Then, he was loose and breaking the surface of the water. He kept a tight grip around his bat, using it to help keep him buoyant and his head above the water.

He sucked in air, blinking the now warm water from his eyes. At his sides, he could hear Allison and Kira gasping and splashing, too.

Item #3 of the informational pamphlet- '**When injured or otherwise physically and emotionally too distressed to continue, the Nemeton will provide assistance.**"

Well, it wasn't _inaccurate_…

A quick glance around showed the night sky above them (nothing new there), and a river bank about ten yards to their right.

They swam for it together, but Allison quickly out-paced them. She reached to shoreline and was out of the water a solid twenty seconds before Stiles and Kira dragged themselves onto land.

It wasn't a surprise that Allison would want out of the water immediately. She'd been the one dragged to a cave by the lake monster during the first week(?) of the Hunt, and it had taken Stiles and Kira almost two full '_nights_' to storm the cave and rescue her.

That had been when they had first truly realized that the Nemeton would help them. '_Help_' being a generous word. The Nemeton would arrange circumstances in their favor, and THEY would have to figure out how to be successful with what they had been given to work with.

Never something as easy as '_Gosh, a machine gun would blessed bullets would be super-handy against the vampires_' or '_How about some more of that awesome black smeary shit that acted as bad-guy repellant for the WHOLE 24 HOURS IT LASTED_?'

No, the Nemeton didn't neccessarily take _requests._ It just did the bare minimum to keep them in the Hunt.

Which was all stated clearly in the pamphlet (which they had NOT read in the beginning, _like fucking idiots_).

In the case of the lake monster, Stiles had been so worried and angry after dozens of failed attempts to dive for the bottom of the lake, that he had finally shouted in frustration "HOW THE FUCK IS THERE NOT A BACKDOOR OR SOME SHIT TO GET DOWN THERE-!?"

At which point, Kira had lost her footing, tripping and rolling into the small mouth of a well-hidden cave. Which had OBVIOUSLY led them through shallow water tunnels and into the- you guessed it- _monster's cave_. Via the _backdoor_, one could say.

Another good example of the Nemeton's intervention was Stiles' handy-dandy bat.

He had casually made the comment (after being beaten and thrown around by a…_bird-something_ that he needed to check the Beastiary to identify) that he '_really wished he had a fucking weapon so he could avoid any more concussions_'.

A tree branch had fallen on him.

It wasn't until several minutes later after Allison and Kira had unpinned him, and he'd dragged himself up and began physically assaulting the tree, that he realized what TYPE of tree he was hitting.

_Mountain Ash._

And in just a short time later (with much help from Allison's pie-slicer), he had carved his now beloved bat out of the tree branch.

Then, they'd gathered up more limbs and sticks from the tree and made a fire, collecting as much ash as possible in folded leaves. Kira had watched them with amazement and a little disbelief at first. It had taken her a while to fully grasp what the Mountain Ash wood could do to a supernatural creature like herself. Stiles had tried to explain that this type of wood, when weilded defensively by a human, could repel the supernatural. But it had taken seeing a furious werewolf knocked fifteen feet through the air with a single swing from his bat for her to actually believe in it.

But, NATURALLY, the Nemeton had taken them quickly away from the tree shortly after, and dunked them in a shallow steam. And ALL their Mountain Ash powder dissipated just like that.

At least Stiles' bat had managed to re-find them after _dozens_ of separations, so… there was a positive side there. Sorta. If you _squinted_.

Stiles kept his grip tight on his weapon now, as he helped drag Kira out of the water to the bank. He felt a tiny _ZAP!_ from his grip on her hand, but didn't think twice about it.

So his friend sparked and occasionally zapped them. Yours doesn't? Your loss, then. She made starting camp fires super-quick and easy, so definitely better than un-sparky friends. She was practically rivaling Scott for BFF at this point in their forest trek. (Mostly because HE was _supposed_ to be helping to _rescue_ them, with Derek.)

As they dripped profusely on the stones of the bank, he didn't need to check to know that his entire body had been healed and refreshed from head to toe. Not even the hint of a bruise lingering on any them. They were completely refreshed and ready to…

…well, to repeat the same shit they had been doing for the last twenty-seven days. _Yay_.

Wet, but drying supernaturally quick, the group took stock of their surroundings. As was always the case, nothing looked familiar.

It seemed like every time the magical water swallowed them up and spat them out, they'd wash up somewhere new.

"And you don't hear THAT, I guess," Allison suddenly said, eyeing the two of them closely.

Stiles and Kira looked at each other, then at Allison with raised eyebrows.

She groaned, wiping her hands across her face. "It's like we're getting _closer_ to him. I can hear him more now. He's hurt- _bad_. This is-" she let out a frustrated roar. "_This is going to drive me CRAZY-!_"

Both Stiles and Kira took several steps back, giving Allison (and her pie-slicer) space to vent.

Allison watched them, huge eyes sad in the moonlight.

"Stiles…I- I know this is just going to make me sound crazier, but I need you to believe me, _okay_?"

"Ally, of course I believe you. We're in a freakin' magical forest getting trolled by a-" he caught himself and finished carefully, "- _a very generous and powerful tree_. So, yeah, hearing voices is actually NOT in doubt, at present."

"Stiles, it- it sounds like…maybe…_Isaac._"

That had Stiles coming to a full stop. "_What?_"

"I think it's him. Stiles, I've heard him crying before. In the _icebox_…down in the basement."

Stiles nodded, mouth tight. "Yeah." He looked around at the trees and shadows along the bank, thinking. After a moment, he nodded to himself and turned back to Allison. "I believe you. And I think we should follow the voice."

Allison broke into a grateful smile. "Thanks, Stiles. I KNOW it must be him. The Nemeton must be trying to send us to help him."

"So, this is one of your pack that you hear?" Kira was watching them both, clearly confused.

"Yeah, Isaac is one of the beta werewolves from our pack. He, uh, he had a rough life. It's a long story. But, point is, if Allison's hearing him crying, them it's gotta mean something. Everything that happens here _means something_. So, I vote we follow it and see if he's really in some shit."

"Okay- that's all I need to know. I'm down." Kira stated, making a determined face. Blue sparks sputtered weakly from her clenched fists.

Allison and Stiles grinned at her.

It felt like they had all suddenly caught a second wind. Instead of wandering around confused and lost, they now had a purpose.

_Follow the creepy crying voice that only Allison could hear and hope it led them to Isaac and the rest of the pack_.

Yeah…

So, maybe it was a little weird and probably dangerous for a lot of reasons. But, it was a purpose, nonetheless. Better than waiting for their wayward werewolf pack to find them.

…-^_^-…

**Close.**

**He was so close.**

The wolf paused, snout to the ground.

**Yes. Stiles had been here. And so recently that the ghost of his scent still practically held the young man's form. Five hours, maybe.**

**But he was gone.**

**Again.**

**As he always was.**

**Just out of the wolf's reach.**

Throwing back his head, the wolf howled his sorrow and anger.

**Why was the Nemeton keeping him from his mate?!**

**He wanted his mate- NOW.**

…-^_^-…

"Allison- you gotta slow down!" Stiles shouted ahead, breath huffing as he stumbled over the uneven ground and various fallen limbs. _(He should really be better at his by now…he was totally getting tree-trolled!)_

The shadow of Allison in the distance called back, "_We're so close! Stiles I can hear him- he's hurt!_"

Kira, who was keeping a steady pace beween the two of them, turned her worried, glowing eyes back to Stiles. Her bare feet sparked faintly with each hurried step. She was definitely going to risk starting a forest fire at this rate.

Stiles already knew what she was thinking as their eyes met.

Even though Allison was insisting that Isaac's voice was loud and clear in the night, they STILL couldn't hear _anything._

Which was a bad sign- especially as Allison's form kept getting further and further out of sight. She was becoming frenzied. _Out of control._

It was dangerous to run ahead. Dangerous to not keep each other in sight.

Stiles was pretty fucking fast, but even he was about to stagger to a stop from pure exhaustion. Kira seemed to be practically flying on swift flashing feet, only slowing to make sure Stiles wasn't left behind. No way Allison was naturally this quick- even with hunter training.

SOMETHING was pulling her further away from them.

In the deep shadows of the woods to his left, Stiles caught the occasional flash of his wolf-stalker, keeping pace parallel to him. It was there, then gone, then back for a brief glimpse so many times that Stiles was beginning to think that it really WAS all in his head. How could it keep finding them after all the magical transporting and fleeing for their lives that they had been doing…?

He had to ignore those thoughts, though. For now, at least. He couldn't afford to be distracted or he would lose sight of the other two.

But, Allison…Allison was already gone. Whatever was pushing her, adrenaline or magic or both, it was making her way too fast to keep up with.

Just when Stiles thought his legs were going to give, Kira abruptly stopped ahead of him. She paused, frozen in place for a second.

Suddenly she ran back for him, yanking his gasping body down to the ground and dropping beside him in a flurry of panicked sparks.

She slapped a hand over his mouth and he clawed at it, desperate for sweet, life-sustaining air. But a glance at her terrified orange eyes made him stop and go still.

He did his best to suck in air quietly, waiting and watching Kira for some clue as to what was wrong. He shifted his bat silently into a position to be ready to swing at any threats.

They stayed low in the brush, only the faint sparks from Kira possibly giving away their location.

The forest was silent as his breathing slowed. Only the now too familiar night sounds filling it.

_Then, he heard the voices._

They drifted through the trees and bushes, barely carried on the wind.

-_From the direction that Allison had disappeared._

Stiles strained his ears, cursing every cricket and breeze that drowned the voices out.

'_Please no more fucking vampires_…' he groaned silently.

He couldn't understand what the voices were saying.

"_They got her._"

Stiles snapped his head around to stare at Kira's wide eyes. Jumping to his feet, he moved to immediately charge the unknown enemy. But, Kira caught his arm, dragging him back to the low brush again as she whispered hurriedly, "_No! No, she's alright, Stiles! They're…talking to her_."

"_Vampires?_" Stiles asked with quiet dread, sticking his head up trying to catch a glimpse. He could see the faint yellow glow of light ahead.

"_No. Humans, it sounds like it. Hunters._"

Stiles met that statement with mixed feelings.

On the one hand, Allison was a hunter, _technically_. So, she was probably better off with them than one of the many other supernatural creatures skipping around the forest.

On the other hand…_fucking hunters._ Were there any that weren't pains in his ass?

"_What are they saying?_" He asked, feeling a sense of dread rising in his chest,

"_They keep calling her an 'Argent'. They know her grandfather, I guess._"

"_Oh. FUCK_." He naged his head against the spiky ground.

"_Is-is that bad?_"

"_SO BAD. Definitely NOT good guys._"

"_Okay. Right. Um, she's…she's telling them that she's alone…?_" Kira was looking at Stiles to see if that was a good thing.

He nodded emphatically, "_Yes. Smart. Very smart of her. Cuz they'd probably not like you very much. No offense_."

Kira looked a little worried, but turned her attention back to the direction of the voices. Several quick snaps of electricity were making her stray hair strands stick up, as if to emphasize her non-human qualities.

"_Can you see them? How many are there?_"

"_Three,_" She answered lowly, "_And they're…they're wearing miltary looking outfits. And they've got guns. They're saying there's more of them at the camp_."

"_What the fucking fuck-? That's- that's not ALLOWED! That's like, items six AND eleven in the pamphlets!_"

"_They're saying that they've…caught some…mutts._" Kira trailed off, voice tight.

"_Fuckity fuck fuck_."

"_Yeah. This sounds really bad, Stiles._" She finally managed. "_They're inviting her to go with them back to the camp. She's…she's agreeing. Playing along_."

"_Right. Right. Okay._" Stiles rolled onto his back, trying to think as he stared at the sky through the branches. "_How are they even here? They can't be part of the Hunt. Not with that type of clothes and guns. Why is the Nemeton letting them stay here? Shit-!"_

"_Stiles, we can't leave Allison alone with those psychos!_" Kira hissed, straighteneing her head t look over the bushes. "_Stiles, they're leaving now! We have to follow them._"

Stiles covered his face, considering the situation with growing panic.

"_Kira_," Stiles emphasized, "_hunters are smart. They've got, like, a sixth sense for finding supernatural creatures. And that's when they DON'T have glowing eyes and sparks shooting off of them!_"

"_What are our other options?_" She hissed back, "_Leave the people they caught- and Allison- to try and save themselves?_"

"_You're right. I KNOW you're right_," he agreed, frustrated. "_Okay, listen- you have to use your super-vision and hearing now more than ever, Kira. They may have scouts or guards hidden around the camp, and we CANNOT risk getting caught by them. Do you understand?_"

"_Yeah, I got it._"

Stiles' head rolled back on the ground, and he let out a frustrated sigh. Great. _Another crisis_. Because they haven't had ENOUGH near-deaths and terrifying experiences in the last however fucking many nights worth of time that they had been out here.

But, Kira really was right. No way could they just LEAVE people to the hunters' mercy. Plus, if Allison's hallucinations were actually real, then Isaac and the rest of the pack were the mutts that the hunters had mentioned.

_And that would actually explain Derek's delay in rescuing them…_

"_Alright. Let's go_."

…-^_^-…

**So close, again.**

**His mate's scent hung in the air, floating teasingly.**

**But always out of reach.**

**A trail was wafting faintly on the air in one direction.**

**He followed.**

…-^_^-…

Kira's faint sound of surprise was the only indication that they had hit a barrier.

Stiles cringed at the sudden noise ahead of him, freezing and listening to see if they had been heard. The forest was silent, except for the faint voices and crackling fire about forty yards further ahead.

Stepping forward to where Kira was shoving at the air perplexed, Stiles crouched down beside her.

"_Mountain Ash?_"

"_Mountain Ash,_" he whispered lowly, nodding and scanning around them as if his limited sight could pierce the darkness. "_That's a good sign. Means they probably didn't bother to set up guards. Can you see the inside of the camp?_"

"_Yeah, sort of. I see the fire, and…Allison, talking to some people. A lot of people. I think the prisoners are on the ground, tied up over to the right. And guns. Lots of guns. Like, everywhere._"

"_Okay,_" Stiles began slowly, "_Let's do this, but smartly. First, we need to find out where this camp is, without getting caught. Then, we'll need to swing around and come in from a different angle, so they wont associate us with Allison._" Kira moved to crouch closer, nodding as she listened. "_Then…well, you're probably not gonna like this next part…_"

She frowned, but said firmly, "_No, tell me._"

"_I think we're gonna have to pretend that I caught you- just so the hunters trust me enough to let us get into the camp._"

Kira was thoughtful for several seconds, before asking, "_What about once we're in there? We'll still be outnumbered. And did I mention all the guns…?_"

"_Yeah…_" Stiles' brain was working over time. Really, this wasn't too different from about a dozen scenarios that had already happened to the pack in Beacon Hills in the past. He just needed to consider all the variables….

They had Allison on the inside, armed with the hidden pie-slicer, so that counted for something. Plus, the prisoners were hopefully in a good enough condition to fend for themselves if they could just _get loose_. If they were the Beacon Hills pack, then they would fight, at least long enough to get everyone clear to safety. If they weren't the pack, then there was a chance they would make an immediate dash for freedom. Not much luck if they, unless Stiles or Allison took down the barrier for them…

But the hunters were armed, which was the real problem here. The surprise of a sudden attack would wear off fast, and they needed to make sure the hunters were at a disadvantage when it did. So…_how to disable the hunters long enough to free everyone and make a run for it…?_

There sure as fuck wasn't a section in the pamphlet about taking down a group of armed rogue hunters that were somehow illegally crashing the Hunt for nefarious purposes…

"_Damn_," Stiles mumbled, "_this would be a really great time to have some badass magic on our side…_"

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, his bat was yanked roughly from his hand and rolled to Kira's (sparking) toes a yard away.

Stiles and Kira met each others eye.

Okayyy. That seemed like a pretty straighforward clue from the Nemeton. Made for a nice change.

"_Um, I guess either I'm supposed to have the bat, or you specifically AREN'T._" She suggested, eyeing the piece of carved wood nervously.

Stiles frowned, but shrugged toward it. "_Well, see if it's okay to touch. Mountain Ash can't really hurt you unless it's wielded against you by someone._"

Kira nodded, and stretched her hand towards the bat. Stopping just inches away, she seemed to change her mind and extended her pointer finger to poke it hesitantly.

As soon as her finger made contact with the side of the bat, a large flash of electricity shot from the top- burning a streak across the ground for nearly two feet.

Kira lifted horrified eyes to look at Stiles.

Stiles grinned widely in return.

"_I'd say THAT is some pretty badass magic._"

…-^_^-…

"Screw you, stupid human!" Kira shouted loudly, elbowing Stiles in the face— _hard._

Stiles tried to shake off the sharp pain, wincing internally. Kira sucked at the verbal acting, but she sure wasn't holding back on the physical side of it.

He twisted her arm behind her back tighter, snapping in an angry voice, "Shut the fuck up, you freak! I'm sick of your kind AND being stuck in the goddamn forest!" (Okay, maybe verbal acting wasn't really either of their strongsuit.)

"_They're coming. You ready?_" Kira whispered, glancing towards the direction of the camp.

"_Yeah, go time._" Stiles answered back quietly.

Kira twisted out of his hold, kicking him (MUCH harder than he considered neccessary for theatrical purposes) and sending him rolling several feet away.

He jumped to his feet, bringing his back up to the ready.

Kira faced off with him, crouching into an attack position.

"FREEZE!"

They both froze, turning looks of mock surprise at the strangers emerging from the woods, guns trained on them both. Flashlight beams in his face made him wince painfully.

Stiles adjusted his stance to include them in range of his bat. "Who the hell-?!"

"Easy now, kid. we've got enough fire power to put a couple dozen holes in you." A heavily muscled man grinned threateningly at him. Stiles scowled, but lowered his weapon carefully. This was his first look at the hunters who had taken Allison. Kira had been right. These people were fully clothed in what looked like some kind of para-military uniforms. Their camoflauge blended into the surrounding forest and nighttime shadows, making it difficult to see much detail. Several things gleamed metallic in the moonlight, though, which was enough for Stiles to get the impression that they were heavily armed.

"The fuck is this? More freaks? You with _her_-?" Stiles growled, jerking his head in Kira's direction. Her hair was practically standing straight up, blue sparks sputtering from her raised hands. She looked appropriately terrified, which Stiles doubted was an act. The hunters had apparently decided that she was the bigger of the two threats, and turned their guns on her.

Stiles felt his heart thumping harshly.

_Why had this seemed like a good idea…? If they just shot Kira for the hell of it, then what?_

But, the hunters seemed to consider the situation for a moment before one of them ordered the huge man closest to Stiles, "Check him."

Suddenly, Stiles was being disarmed and dragged roughly towards the distant firelight. He heard the sounds of Kira shouting and struggling behind him. Stiles made a scene, shouting and cursing as he was jerked roughly forward.

The buzzing of magic abruptly stopped. Stiles almost collapsed under the sudden absence. He hadn't even noticed the constant hum anymore ever since leaving the arena. But, as soon as they passed over the barrier, the magic of the Nemeton seemed to be unable to touch him.

The man stopped abruptly, shoving Stiles to the ground as he called back to the others, "He's clear! Human!"

Stiles realized that they must have passed through the Mountain Ash barrier. The rest of the group had come to a stop several feet behind them. Stiles rose carefully to his feet, snapping, "Of course I'm human! Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

The hunters seemed to be grappling with Kira, trying to bind her in ropes. The man who had bought Stiles across the barrier smiled widely at him. "It's your lucky day, boy. You're being _rescued_." Then the hunter stepped back towards the group and asked, "Got her bound?"

The others responded with affirmatives, and the man stooped to break the barrier. As soon as the group was through with the wildly sparking form of Kira, he quickly closed the line again.

Stiles watched them closely. It was too weird. Even if the Nemeton couldn't touch them INSIDE the Mountain Ash barrier, how were they allowed to move freely when they were OUT of it…?

Stiles was handed back his bat, which he snatched back and immediatey raised defensively. "Someone better give me some fucking answers," he demanded.

The hunters just laughed. Stiles was clapped on the back by the burly man at his side. "Like I said, relax kid. _You're safe now._"

…-^_^-…

**The sharp sting of fury seemed to be piercing his mind, coloring everything in a haze of blood red.**

**He was being teased. Played with by the power of the Nemeton.**

**It was keeping him from his mate. From what was HIS.**

**The wolf dug claws into the soft earth beneath its paws, wishing that it were the flesh of the Nemeton.**

**Even now, Misha could be claiming what belongs to him.**

**HIS STILES.**

**Just as he muscles clenched and he was preparing to throw his head back in another furious howl, he caught it again.**

**The scent.**

**STILES.**

**His entire body jerked to attention. His nose dropped to the ground, smelling the soft tones that made up Stiles.**

**It was fresh.**

**Very fresh. Barely forty minutes.**

**A jolt of eagerness and hunger shot through him.**

**STILES.**

…-^_^-…

Allison did a fantastic job of appearing not to recognize Stiles and Kira as they were led into the camp. Stiles figured she knew him well enough to know he would try to rescue her. But, she could barely hide her unhappy scowl at the sight of Kira being shoved over to where the rest of the prisoners were laid out. The two had grown close during their shared time in the night forest.

Whatever the range of emotions she felt, she hid it behind the question, "Another hunter?"

The group of armed hunters were eyeing Stiles closely in the bright firelight. He tried to look surly and dickish. You know, _like a hunter_.

"Good question. He was fightin' off the little Katsune bitch when we got to 'em." One of them stated, moving all up into Stiles' personal space. "What d'ya say, brat? Why're you participating in this werewolf rape party?"

Stiles actually had to fight his face to stop it from reacting to the man's description of the Hunt. Like, _whoah_. He may not agree with the whole nudist sex-fest theme they had going, but it was pretty clear that all the participants stopped at the awkward groping phase.

Luckily, Stiles and Kira had already hashed out the backstory in the short time they took to get the hang of zapping shit with the bat and circling around to the far side of the camp.

"This whole thing is fucking _bullshit_!" Stiles exploded, aiming to sound like he'd been waiting to share his rant with other 'sane' humans. "And how is THIS fair punishment!?" He glared to take in the prisoners tied up together on the ground a few yards away. He searched their faces as he spat toward them.

Most of the faces seemed scared, he noticed with a cringe. Wide-eyes of several different colors watching him and the hunters with obvious signs of fear.

He didn't see Derek or Scott.

He didn't recognize any of them, in fact.

Except one.

_Isaac._

He met Stiles gaze with a slight yellow eyed nod.

There was dried blood smeared in his matted blonde curls and on his face, and much more around his mostly bare body. In the moving light of the fire, Stiles could even spot some of the slower healing wounds.

_Slash marks._

Stiles was going to draw some blood of his own for that.

He did a subtle count to get an estimation of the number of hunters around them. _At least twenty…_

_Okay…fuck._

"And what exactly is it that you're supposed to have DONE, kid?" Asked the same hunter. Stiles could spot that he was leader, based off the way the other hunters let him do the talking.

"Nothing those stupid mutts didn't deserve!" He snapped, laying it thick. "All I wanted was to even the playing field, you know? I can spot a dog when I see one- my dad always told me keep an eye out for them when I left for college. Said they'd be sneaking around big cities. And he was right. The fuckers were on the damn college _soccer team_! _Cheating_! Everyone knows it's not fair for their kind to be playing sports! So, I got them _good_!" Stiles grinned viciously at the now rapt faces of the hunters, "I spiked the water cooler with wolfsbane during practice. You should have seen it! All three of them- they were laid out across the field, puking up black shit!" He laughed meanly as he strolled over to where Isaac lay, giving him a smug shove from his foot. Isaac growled weakly and Stiles almost vomited tears. _Shit, the dude was fucked up._

The hunters were practically giggling behind him, clearly getting a kick out of his story. He took that time quickly check over the ropes holding Isaac and the other hostages. They were a thick nylon rope. Definitely going need something sharp to cut through.

_And TIME to do all the cutting._

_Shit..._

"So they figured they'd throw you into this mess and let the dogs play with you, huh? Disgusting _animals-_!" The leader kicked at an older man laying nearby.

Stiles didn't flinch, just nodded like HE was the wronged victim. "Sure enough. Been fighting them off for fucking weeks now. What about you lot?" He asked, motioning with the hand not holding his bat towards the leader's rifle, "You guys managed to smuggle all this stuff in here, past all the magic shit?"

The leader snorted, looking smug. "We've been planning this for a while. Got some of our guys on the inside." He stopped, frowning, "Not sure where the _fuck they are_, though. Fuckin' d_evil tree_…" He seemed to shrug off his anger, and continued, "We're going to show these mutts why humans'll always win, right fellas!" The dozen or so hunters cheered, leering at the cowering prisoners. "We're gonna leave so much blood on the ground that this forest'll wither and die from it! Then, we're gonna _burn_ that fucking evil tree to the ground!" There were more shouts and cheers from the hunters.

"_Awesome_," Stiles smiled widely, trying to sound excited, "Where do I sign up?"

"You hear that? Another volunteer for the cause!" The leader nodded toward a woman standing nearby, "Set 'em up with a charm, Tiff. The rest of you, line this lot up for execution. It's time to drop the dead weight and move forward!" He jerked his head at the group tied up on the ground, not even bothering to glance at them.

Stiles entire body stiffened at the man's words. _Holy Shit-!_ The fuckers were the really bad kind of crazy! How the hell were they supposed to take all these hunters down with only him and Allison free to fight? He'd been expecting more time. At least enough of a window to steal a knife and get Kira loose. Once she had his bat, they'd be at least able to go on the offensive against all the guns.

_No way they were all getting out of this unscathed. Like, zero chance._

_And with the barrier up… would the Nemeton have the power to help if they got hurt?_

Stiles shot Allison a panicked glance as the hunters started ordering the prisoners to their feet. To his surprise, she looked calm and determined.

"_Get ready._" She mouthed, nodding towards Isaac and the group being yanked to their feet.

The woman, Tiff, stepped up to him holding a weird shaped necklace in her hands. She draped it with a smile over his head to hang it around his neck. "This'll keep the you safe from the dark magic, hon."

Tiff grinned in front of him and he realized that she had a necklace with the same strange shape, too. In fact, he noticed that all the hunters, including Allison had the same item. He could see the threads of the necklace twine on the necks of all the hunters, now that he knew what to look for.

So, that had to be how they were able to move freely without the Nemeton stopping them.

He was suddenly snapped from his thoughts by Allison darting straight over to him and grabbing his arm as Tiff moved to join the others yanking the supernatural creatures to their unwilling feet.

"_I slipped Isaac the pie-slicer. They passed it around_," Allison hissed into his ear, "_Get ready to fight._"

Sometimes he REALLY underestimated Allison. Obviously she hadn't been waiting for him to heroically rescue them. Good thing, too.

Stiles barely had enough time to process the sudden solution to their problem before all hell broke loose.

The hunters were off their guard, weapons hanging loosely from their straps on their backs, or holstered on their hips. No sense bothering to aim a gun at tied up hostages, _right_?

The prisoners charged, ropes dropping to their feet as they shifted and attacked. Mostly werewolves, it looked like. Betas. But, a few other types of creatures mixed in. The hunters that were further away from the group fumbled for their weapons at the same time that the first wave of hostages attacked the closest captors. It seemed like they were so stunned, they just blinked in shock, temporarily frozen at the sudden change of events.

"Stiles!" A shout pulled his attention to the hostages.

Kira raised her crackling hands up. He immediately tossed the bat over several hunters' heads and into her waiting hands.

It seemed to glow a bright blue as she gripped the handle and took up a wide stance. She swung a low arc, a solid tendril of pure blue electricity lagging behind the tip of the bat. It struck the six hunters in front of her like a super-charged bolt of lightning, sending them airborn with a thunderous crack.

It seemed like every person in the camp stopped to stare with dropped jaws as the bodies landed heavily in the trees and bushes bordering the camp. They were twitching, like the electricity was still zapping them for several seconds.

"The _hell-?!_" Allison demanded incredulously from her position ducked behind a supply case.

"I know, right!?" Stiles cheered.

The eruption of gunfire wiped the grin from his face. He dropped for the ground, landing hard.

The remaining hunters, seeing the significant decrease in their numbers, had begun retaliating against the raging prisoners. Bullets flew from several different directions. Stiles panicked as he felt the heat of several whizzing dangerously close to him.

_He was stuck in almost the middle of the camp- unarmed- as a battle between hunters and the supernatural clashed around him._

_SO. NOT. GOOD._

He kept himself as flat as possible, flinching as the sound of howls and gunshots rang out deafeningly loud in the air all around him.

…O_O…

**The wolf heard the muted sound of gunfire in the distance.**

**It was coming from the same direction as the scent trail.**

**Deep inside the beast, the faint but desperate human voice yelled "STILES!?"**

**The wolf was already launching forward, desperation and the cold chill of fear squeezing his heart like a vice.**

…O_O…

_Fuck. FUCK!_

Stiles lifted his head just high enough to scan the area in front of him. He spotted Allison a few yards away, also imitating the world's flattest human rug. Isaac was crouched above her, apparently trying to shield her as best he could. Bullets were striking his flesh with sickening wet thuds, but he wasn't moving away from her.

All around them, bodies were staggering and dropping as the bullets hit their targets. The shifted forms of the freed creatures were falling back to take cover behind the cases and gun trunks. The sounds of chaos and pain were coming from everywhere. It looked like most of the remaining hunters had moved to the cover of the surrounding treelines and were firing from there.

_They were losing. Totally outgunned._

Several flashes of blue lit up the camp, but Stiles was too afraid to raise his head any higher to try and get a glimpse of Kira's position. She could heal quickly, but not fast enough. neither could Isaac! No way they were going to last much longer- especially if the bullets were wolfsbane. And he seriously doubted that the Nemeton could bring you back from the dead after taking a bullet to the brain.

_Shit- that's it! They had to find a way to get the Nemeton back in control!_

He could see several betas in his range, grappling with a couple hunters despite the onslaught of bullets flying around them.

"TEAR OFF THEIR NECKLACES-!" Stiles shouted as loud as he could manage. "THE NECKLACES!"

He heard Allison and Isaac's voices join his, shouting the instructions into noises filling the camp.

"ISAAC! ALLY! I'M GONNA TAKE DOWN THE BARRIER-!" He shouted over the noise.

They both yelled back at the same time, "_NO-!_"

"STAY DOWN!" Allison practically screamed from her position beneath Isaac. "YOU'LL NEVER MAKE IT LIKE THIS-!"

Just as Stiles was about to yell back, a heavy weight landed on him. He jerked roughly away, preparing to fight off the attacker when he realized-

_"KIRA!?_"

She gasped raggedly, her entire body shuddering. She was bleeding from- from fucking everywhere.

"_Oh my god-_" Stiles wheezed, heart seeming to stop in his chest.

"KIRA-!" He heard Allison scream from her spot near the cases.

"Stay down!" Stiles yelled at her, worried that she would try to make it over to them.

"_The barrier_," Kira choked, blood bubbling out of her mouth. "_It can't take us out of the barrier-!_"

Her eyes were fluttering, face pale.

_Fuck!_

Stiles grabbed Kira's shoulder, squeezing it tightly as she blinked weakly at him. "I know! I know, Kira! I'm taking it down. Now! _Just hold on!_"

He sucked in a deep breath and sent up a desperate prayer.

Then, he ran.

He heard Allison and Isaac both screaming for him to stop, but there was no other choice. Only a human could break the barrier, and Stiles seriously doubted the hunters were going to be that helpful.

Fuck his life.

…O_O…

**His breaths were ragged huffs as he closed in on the sounds of the battle.**

**He was close enough now to hear the shouts and roars boucung and echoing off the trees like he was in the midst of it.**

**He was so close, but still too far away to see what was happening.**

**He pushed himself harder and harder- bounding over fallen treees and bushes.**

"STILES-!"

**The voice was Allison's, faint but terrified.**

**The sound of his mates name shouted in fear seemd to rattle him deep in his bones.**

**So close!**

**He was so close to reaching them. To reaching his mate!**

**He need to be there already!**

**Why wasn't the Nemeton helping!? Why was it leaving his mate in danger!?**

…O_O…

Stiles felt the first bullet hit him in his abs before he made it three steps. It burned scalding hot. The momentum he had kept him going, but the shock of pain made the muscles in his legged tighten painfully.

He forced them to keep moving, to keep him upright, as he put everything he had into sprinting into the treeline.

He heard Allison screaming his name, but he was already in the trees and high-stepping over bushes and fallen limbs. He felt shaky and dizzy, the pain from the gunshot wound almost paralyzing him. They really didn't do justice to getting shot in the movies. It hurt. _Bad._

He didn't even see the hunter that fired at him from his right, but his body was already clenching when the shots rang out. He felt the sharp burn of another bullet hit his shoulder and burn a path through his shoulder blade and out of his back.

The world suddenly became muted and all the pain faded out.

He felt himself stumble, then _drop_.

…O_O…

**The wolf could see the dim yellow glow of fire up ahead; heard the screams and gunshots.**

**There!**

**His mate was there!**

**With a new burst of energy, he shot forrward, fangs extended and ready to shred and kill.**

**He slammed into a hard wall with enough force to crush bone.**

**He richoched off of it, darkness and pain clouding his sight and mind.**

**Furious, he shook the weakness off lauching forward with claws and teeth to tear at the barrier keeping him from his mate.**

…O_O…

Everything was black. He couldn't feel a solid surface to tell if he was laying down or still standing. There was a faint sense of pressure against his face, and he focused on it. He felt his lips, then his nose.

The world began to fade back in, and he urged his eyes to blink open. He was breathing in dirt and leaves.

He was on the ground, he realized.

He tried to move, tried to get his arms beneath himself to push up, and pain exploded across his body.

_He was going to die._

_All of them were._

_They were all trapped inside the Mountain Ash, where the Nemeton couldn't get to them. The hunters were going to kill them all._

_Unless-_

He forced his head up, feeling every muscle and bone and CELL of his body scream in pain.

_Where-?_

Where was the edge of the barrier-?

And he saw it.

The light brown wolf- his stalker. It was jumping and biting and ATTACKING the air over twenty feet away. Each strike sent a faint crimson colored wave rippling.

Stiles sucked in a painful breath, lungs burning, and slung himself forward, hands and knees digging into the ground.

And forward again.

_He just had to get there._

_Keep moving._

_Keep going._

_Or everyone was dead._

_Everyone was dying waiting for him._

_Allison._

_Kira._

_Isaac._

_They were all dying behind him at the camp._

_Forward again._

_Towards the fuzzy shape of the wolf going insane just ahead._

He could see the wolf's tan shape blurring in and out with his vision. He could see it barking. But the only sounds he could hear were pain-muffled shouts and growls behind him and the never-ending ring of gunfire.

_Close-_

_He was supposed to go to college. His dad was so proud- Christ! He'd never told his dad the truth-_

_Almost there-_

_And Derek! How would Derek take it? He'd blame himself. Another death he couldn't prevent-_

_He couldn't breath-_

_Fuck! He didn't want to be another ghost haunting Derek-!_

_Almost-_

The wolf's massive head was only a few feet from his own, sharp teeth exposed as it seemed to be barking furiously. Yellow eyes held his-

He slung his arm as far forward as possible and dug his nails into the ground- into the Ash- and dragged it back.

The barrier broke with a horrible roar of magic that promised the Nemeton's swift and bloody vengeance.

_Stiles felt the darkness close in around him._

…O_O…

**The wolf felt the barrier break under his paws, and rode the Nemeton's wave of power into the camp.**

**He bypassed hunters on all sides, aiming for the fire and searching the blood-scented air for a trace of his mate.**

**It was there- Stiles' scent, along with Allison and Isaac's.**

**He pushed towards the collection of smells just in time to see Allison crying over Isaac's bload soaked body as the ground took them both with a splash like it was liquid.**

**The same seemed to be happening all around him.**

**The Nemeton was taking everyone- dropping them into the blood stained ground and away from the camp.**

**STILES!**

**WHERE WAS HIS MATE-!?**

**The sharp coppery scent of Stiles' blood hit him like a punch to the gut.**

**A dread like he had never felt washed through him as his shaking legs rushed after the smell.**

**A mix between a whimper and pitiful moan ripped from him as his paws smeared with the still warm blood trailing towards the far edge of the camp.**

**Stiles' blood.**

**Stiles' life.**

**Stiles-**

**STILES-!**

**He saw a form laying motionless on the ground just ahead.**

**STILES-!**

**Before he could reach the bloody form, the earth swallowed it.**

**The wolf leapt just a split-second too slow, landing against the hardened ground.**

**The wolf roared like a clap of rightous thunder, claws digging and tearing into the dirt.**

**Gone-**

**Gone-**

**GONE-!**

**The wolf turned, shaking with rage and loss and the need to bring Death. The scent of his mate's blood in the air choked him and churned the vicious urges inside him.**

**The remaining hunters were confused and panicked. Their shadowed forms were running around in the dying light of the campfire. Their guns were flashing metallic as they moved.**

**The guns that hurt his mate…**

**The wolf attacked.**

…O_O…

_Deep._

_Cold._

_Numbness._

He broke the surface of the water with a horrified scream like he had never made in his life.

And he kept screaming until water filled his mouth and choked him. He gasped, hacking up the tepid liquid only to swallow more.

It took several dunks and resurfaces for Stiles brain to begin working again. When it did, he felt the feeling of his body come back. Muscles jerked and moved- his arms and legs flailed.

_He was in water._

_HE WAS ALIVE AND IN WATER-!_

He kicked his legs, finding the surface and bringing his head up to stay above it.

He gulped in air, blinking water from his eyes.

He was alive.

_Holy fucking shit- he was alive._

He bent his arms and legs and twisted his body but the pain from the bullets was gone. Totally and completely gone. His feet brushed something solid and he felt the softness of silt beneath his feet. Solid ground. At least, relatovely solid ground.

He glanced around, seeing a bank close by. He drug his body through the water, feeling the incline as with each step.

He heard the sound of splashing and gasping somewhere nearby, and turned his head.

A head and arms were sticking up out of the darkness of the water further down the river.

He pulled himself up onto the shore, smoth rocks shifting under his wet bare feet as he stumbled to get to the other person.

The closer he drew, he more he recognized the voice, relief washing over him so hard he almost collapsed.

_"Kira!_"

"_Stiles-?!_" She called breathlessly. "Stiles! Are you- are you okay!?"

He winced as his feet scaped over some sharp rock edges. "Yeah! Yeah- are you!?"

He made it to the edge of the water, just as she crawled on hands and knees out and dropped to the rocky ground. "I-I think I died, Stiles. I think I actually _died_." Her voice sounded like a sob.

"Yeah," he dropped heavily beside her, pulling her into a wet hug. "Me, too. Me,too."

They breathed together for at least a minute. Stiles felt the shock slowly disipate from his bones.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Holy fuck, that was bad."

"The_ worst_," Kira mumbled from beside him.

"Where-?" Stiles suddenly jolted up, "Where's Ally?"

He was up, and on his feet in less than a second, scanning the smooth waters of the river as far as he could see in the pale moonlight.

"ALLY-! ISAAC-!?" He panted, panic rising. "ALLY-!? WHERE ARE YOU!?"

Kira was up too, shouting along with him.

"ALLY-?! CAN YOU HEAR US!?"

There was no answer, only the gentle lapping of the water and the familiar night sounds in the distance.

"_What-?_" Stiles whispered, "I don't understand! We-we always come up in the same place-! Where is she?!"

"I-I don't know," Kira responded quietly.

"She- she's not…?" He turned to Kira, "Was she okay- at the camp? With Isaac?"

Kira's wide orange eyes looked helpless, "It's all a blur. I remember getting to you, but…" She looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"It's okay," Stiles interrupted, forcing himself to be calm. "It's okay. Isaac was with her. She was afe- she wasn't hurt when I left to get to the barrier." He took a deep breath, trying to sound confident. "I'm sure they're both okay. The Nemeton would've saved them, like it did us."

Kira nodded, but her face was still pinched in worry. Her voice was quiet as she asked, "_Then why aren't they here…?_"

Stiles didn't answer her. He couldn't.

There was no possible way to know if Allison was safe. If Isaac was with her. He'd been so injured already...

No way of knowing where they were now and why they hadn't washed up with him and Kira.

_And then there were two…_ he thought somberly.

He stared blankly at the black waters of the river and sent a silent prayer to the Nemeton to protect them.

The pale, elongated shape of his bat floated up from the water just a few feet from where they both stood.

They stared silently as it drifted on a small wave to the rocky shoreline at there feet, making a hollow thunk against the stones.

Kira stooped down and brought the carved wood up. It didn't even glow.

In fact, Kira had yet to spark since they came out of the river.

"I-I think I ran out of juice..." She muttered, handing the bat over to Stiles.

After a few moments, he turned to her. "Let's keep moving."

She looked up at him and nodded grimly.


End file.
